


Episode 1. Alackaday

by Aintzane



Series: Small Fish in a Big Pond - Volume One [2]
Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-18 14:57:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aintzane/pseuds/Aintzane
Summary: Being a rookie means not only getting used to the job itself but also finding out more about your friends and foes and getting aware what's going on at all.The first case was intended to be relatively easy practice for the novice Inquisitor but the activities of the Witch Hunters are not limited to chasing petty heretics in quiet cities. Volentia arrives to a hive city before a popular festival to investigate a mysterious poisoning of an Administratum clerk.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning of the story might seem a bit slow-paced but the case itself was expected to be a trivial criminal accident to be easily solved by a rookie without additional troubles like major incursions ;)  
> Prologues and epilogues of every episode are either flashbacks or something happening behind the scenes, with different POVs.

Aphedron Pansexualis the Magnificent, Champion of the Dark Prince, stretched himself on the sofa with his signature majestic grace and looked at the gawky visitor with contempt. Some inquisitors just cannot choose allies wisely. It doesn't matter though as most often oafs like that happen to be of some use.

'Greetings.' The inquisitor's overfamiliar tone didn't bother Aphedron much as the man was no real threat.

'You're welcome.'

'I'm here to get the grimoire, you know. Anyway you're unlikely to keep it for your needs,' the visitor chuckled.

'True, I'm no bookish man, but I can find a better customer. To be honest, I'm trading with you because I have a soft spot for nonconforming individuals who are the spice of the boring, senile Imperium.'

'You've got the bigger part of the price already.'

'Yes, but it's just a snack to lighten up the dull pastime in this collapsing shack. I'm going to pay a visit to the Casbah as soon as possible.'

'You'll get to the place today then. Right as you commissioned - a latent, non-soulbound psyker of little use for myself.'

'But how will you explain the loss of your valued Interrogator?' Aphedron smirked.

'I'll make something up as usual.' The inquisitor shrugged his shoulders. 'I care little about what old Platydoras and his Conclave think of me.'

'Wise enough. You may take the first part of your purchase from my night table. The second one will wait for you here when I'm back.'

'If only you won't hornswoggle me.'

'So you don't trust Aphedron the Magnificent, Resplendent Champion of the Prince of Pleasures, Swordmaster Warlord of the Porphyrous Host? I might get offended by such attitude.' Aphedron gave him a sinister grin.

'Deal.'

'Where's your psyker then?'

'Waiting outdoors. I'll call her right now. She hasn't seen a Chaos Marine yet.'

'So she's gonna get impressed.'

The inquisitor found the grimoire in the mess of drug packages, jewels and kineblades on Aphedron's table and stuffed it into his pouch. When he left, a young girl in simple military garb entered the room and stared at the Chaos Lord with a mixture of interest and caution. She could have been bolder and prettier, Aphedron thought, but that was still fine.

'Good afternoon, sir.' The girl pulled an overly cheerful smile.

'Nice to meet you, babe. Feel at home in my bachelor's lair.' Aphedron let his purple toga slip down to the floor revealing his alabaster-white perfect body.

He reached out with his psychic vision to take a look at the psyker girl's aura letting the lulling murmurs of Slaanesh touch her mind. The interrogator blushed and wrapped herself tighter in her old worn coat.

'My mentor said I'll have to do some job for you.'

'Hope you've got experience.' Aphedron unfurled the bundle of violet tentacles in the place of his left arm to pick up his glass of wine from the table.

'I've served as his Interrogator for two years already.' The girl tried not to show horror at the sight of his mutation.

'Maybe you'd like to pick up new skills.'


	2. I

The autumn city looked calm on the misty morning we arrived, if we didn't mind the dangers we were to encounter in its lackadaisical streets. It had been years since I last visited a relatively serene, civilised place like that, back in the days before I got to my late mentor's retinue. Danio Rerio, Corydoras' jolly gunman, dropped us off in the outskirts close to an almost empty trailer park.

'Fifteen minutes by owl.' He waved his hand. 'Hurry up to get a good place before tourists crowd it.'

'They'll start arriving in the weekend, not today.' I smiled. 'But thank you anyway. We'll miss you all.'

'Too early. Nowadays, everything's gone awry.'

When the lighter disappeared in the clouds, Uncle drove us across the hills. Leaves had just started to turn, and though the morning was foggy, there were no signs of regular heavy rains. The owl rolled smoothly along the forest road, and the calm air was filled with bird voices and the rustling of trees.

Beyond the forest there were emerald-green meadows running to the horizon where the city outline started appearing through the melting brume. The verdant expanse strewn with colourful cottages and gardens. A wide river was flowing between the grassy slopes, crossed by a railway bridge to the right.

'Let's get a place as close to the station as possible.' Uncle pointed at the open field before the railroad.

'Half an hour to the Central Station, sounds perfect,' I said. 'I've browsed the timetable during the landing. Let's take the eight-twenty express. Drago must have got the investigation reports ready.'

Corydoras had said I needed a relatively simple urban mission to start an independent career. Quite a good idea to check up my skills and have an opportunity to spend a few weeks away from the frontlines. Most of my previous cases before the accident had been urban as well, and I knew the cozier a city looked, the more dreadful was the heresy within.

There had been a poisoning of an Administratum clerk, and the local Inquisitor suspected the poison to be warp-tainted. She was aware of drug cartels in the city underhive as from time to time they dabbled with the Ruinous Powers. A few dangerous cults had been found and weeded out by Domna Drago herself and her predecessors.

We chose a quiet place on the edge of the park in the shade of a birch grove. The trailer park was almost empty, even the administrator was away to the city, a few watch-drones and a parking automat left behind.

Angel and Sister looked around with growing anxiety in their wide-open eyes. For their long years of drill and planned pastime that was the first day they had to spend on their own.

'What will we do here?' Angel asked nervously.

'Simply wait for me,' I said. 'Find yourself a job, read a book, I dunno. We cannot let the locals see you lest we get unnecessary sensational attention.'

'The customs of Corydoras' retinue were not that different from my old ways back with the Chapter,' he admitted.

'Man, do we look like those rich cool guys?' I said with certain sadness. 'We're a bunch of lowly cops in a funny trailer. We cannot allow solemn rites and excessive weapon training right now.'

'We've got no food here,' Sister sighed.

She curled up in the owl's back corner, wrapping herself in her plain robe. Nightmares of her past still returned every night, her eyes red with tears every morning as she woke up.

'We'll buy nice food to munch, don't be upset, little angel.' Uncle interfered.

He treated both with tenderness and compassion since they had appeared in the team, and they fitted his favourite role of 'nice children' more than I ever could.

'I'll get something on the way back. Say a few prayers for my luck and don't think about the traitorous bastards.' I patted her shoulder.

Soon a suburban train carried me to the city. Hills and groves in the windows gave way to neat townhouses, than the train rolled up suspension bridges and twisting tunnels to the very heart of the hive. When the train speeded down in the central area, I stared at elegant buildings of pastel-coloured bricks, lush parks with bright autumn leaves and opulent season flowers, latticework pedestrian bridges over slow-flowing canals and between crosswalk levels.

Close to the station dozens of elevated tracks intertwined in the air like a spiderweb, and in the center of the mesh there was a splendid station building. The train stopped at a crowded platform. I blended in with the buzzing crowd of passengers and loiterers and hurried to the bus station near the mid-level main exit.

All the benches were occupied by tourists and their luggage, so I sat down on the curbstone and tried to catch the free network. Slow as usual in such peopled places but it let me open the interactive map on my dataslate. Number ten, arrives in five minutes, eight stops to the Second Park Street.

Drago's office was quite tricky to find among lookalike standard twelve-storey buildings. Unlike Lord Platydoras in his stronghold headquarters on Uebotia, she and her staff resided in a typical administrative office separated from the streetwalk by a brick fence covered with wild grapes and ivy. I didn't want to flash my rosette in the street so I pressed the bell button. An armed acolyte opened the gate a minute later.

'The labour exchange is across the street,' he said gruffly.

'I'm here for the catfish business.' I recalled the code phrase.

He frowned but let me in and showed me to Lady Drago's cabinet.

Domna Drago stood at the large window smoking a pipe and talking by vox. Her relaxed stylish dress was perfectly in tune with the elegant expensive furniture, and I suddenly felt awkward looking like a beggar in my worn coat and old boots.

She finished the conversation and nodded at us.

'A new clerk for the documentation division?'

'She's said the password, ma'am. I guess she's from the team Lord Platydoras mentioned.'

'Inquisitor Volentia, ma'am.' I bowed my head and took out the rosette.

'I'm sorry, Miss Volentia,' Drago looked at me with certain irony. 'Nice to meet you. Congratulations for the start of your career in this brilliant rank. It's been a good idea to begin with a case like that as it's relatively easy to find out criminals here. Sit down, please. When have you arrived?'

'Three hours before, Lady Drago.'

'No need to hurry like that. All novices do the same things. You must be tired after the flight. Let me offer you coffee, or maybe a meal. I'm going to have brunch anyway.'

She put her pipe on the table and grabbed a few cookies from a tin box on the table.

'Help yourself to the sweets while they're preparing the meal, Miss Volentia. I bought it in the center yesterday when we checked the Daisy coffeeshop. They do make the tastiest cookies ever.'

She devoured the cookies with a content look I hadn't expected from an Inquisitor.

'They came under suspicion when we found out the candy bag had been bought there. All the picts are in the report folders, you'll see them later. We've examined every other package they had in stock, looked through every room and corridor but found nothing. The owner has probably given up her late husband's business.'

Her ease to consumed delicacies from probably heretical places was even more surprising.

'A criminal family?'

'He was the head of a now extinct underhive cartel named Alackaday. I guess you're already aware of our neverending strife with the gangs. At least once a decade some crime boss or bootlegger captain decides he would be able to make some money on warp drugs before I take notice. Always ends the same though.'

'Is there evidence against any particular cartel now?'

'A few clues. Unfortunately, the clerk hasn't come to herself yet. The candy package was found on the table of Ordinate Lacia, the secretary of the Prefectus, but none of the other candies contained any trace of drugs.'

'How does Lacia explain the situation then?'

'That was a bad hair day for me.' She gave out a weary chuckle. 'When I paid a visit to Prefectus Wycke, it turned out Miss Lacia had just embarked to the quarterly gathering of quarry department delegates in the sub-sector capital. All I could do was to send an astropathic message to the ship she was on.'

An office employee brought in a large tray with bowls and dishes, and Drago paused her speech with relief.

'Bon appetit, dear Miss, hope you enjoy our cuisine.' She invited me to the dining table in the next room with tall bookshelves. 'While we're having lunch, the secretary will upload the report to your dataslate.'

Every shelf was packed with countless folders with dates and numbers. At the window there was a smaller bookcase with opulent treatises in guilded velvet covers and a whole exhibition of Drago's awards and letters of honour.

'The colour of every folder means a particular cartel,' she explained pointing at the shelves. 'Green for the Pig Farmers, a large undercover industry masked as agricultural trade. Yellow for the Flores Mortuorum, the number one of the underhive by now.'

'And what for the coffeeshop owner's former clan?'

'Those violet folders on the leftmost shelf. Most of the cases completed before I took office. They're of little importance by now. The only evidence I have hints at the Flores. A notorious gambling empire with frequent use of unsanctioned psykers and cases of xeno trade. Wycke himself blames them for the case as his quarry industry has made them abandon a few bases of their operations. He's a sleazy man.' She frowned swallowing another spoonful of soup. 'He's always talking to me as of he's doing me a favour. A dozen years ago this illustrious man was but a shabby clerk, and now he boasts his dubious wealth to everyone. Gold wristwatch, gold monocle, a pricey ring with a lavish purple pearl.'

She pursed her lips and immersed herself in her culinary pleasures. I quickly sated my hunger and turned back to the shelves looking at the prevailing colours of each year.

'Newcomers are always inspirational in their haste and eagerness.' She smiled wiping her face and hands and applying a fresh layer of lipstick. 'Let's go back to the cogitators and make a plan of further actions.'

'We have to find out the exact source of the candies, ma'am.'

'That's what I want you to do. Wycke suspects the candy factory to have conspired with the Flores to poison either him or his visitors to put blame on him. They must be aware that Lacia buys a whole box of these candies in the coffeeshop every week and might have bribed the cargo hauler. Try to gather more information with your acolytes while I'm dealing with the Flores. How many men do you have in your retinue?'

'Four, ma'am. A mercenary, a Magos, a Hospitaller Repentia and a Pilgrim Blood Angel.'

'Wow.' She seemed impressed at last, but not for long. 'Sounds awesome in theory but is barely suitable for a Witch Hunter's daily duties. Hope you've hidden the latter two well enough lest the whole city runs to your stay to get a selfie with a real space marine. Will you allow me to take a glimpse of His Angel of Death at least once?'

She gave out a friendly laugh but I couldn't get her real attitude towards me and my participation in the investigation. Unfortunately, she was unlikely to trust me as she seemed to know the story of my mentor's demise and my speedy promotion.

We said goodbye when the secretary brought the tablet back to me and gave me a password to enter the office next time. I promised to share the information I'd gather in the city. Drago suggested lending me one of her astropaths but I refused remembering Fluffster's past warnings about a possible tail.

I dropped by to a supermarket across the bus stop to buy instant noodles and the cricetid's favourite processed cheese. Thanks to Drago's voracity and generosity, I didn't need any more food till tomorrow so we could save up till the wage arrived.

The days were short here in autumn, and the sun was already setting when I got back to the trailer park. Uncle was sitting outside with a bottle of beer cleaning his leather jacket, looking at the sparkling river and lovely evening clouds.

'Home at last, lassie.' He waved his hand. 'We've started to worry.'

'Everything is fine, Uncle,' I smiled. 'How're the others? Sounds like I'll be kinda busy this evening.'

'The young'uns miss you very much. So lonely and hungry, locked in the trailer. The rodent's doing his usual lazy tinkering, as always.'

On seeing the cheese blocks Fluffster left his instruments and hobbled outside to munch the snacks on the grass. Angel and Sister had crawled into a back corner like homeless kids in an underhive slur. He was taking a nap, and she pressed herself to his shoulder staring pointlessly at the wall. I emptied the supermarket bag to the floor before them.

'Hi, I'm back, guys. You may eat this while I'm checking up the data.'

'It's some dried food?' The marine examined one of the noodle packages and opened it with cautious interest.

'It's written on the package how to prepare it. Ten for you, one for Sister. The kettle must be somewhere in the storage boxes.'

'Buying junk again.' Uncle frowned entering the trailer. 'I'm not gonna live on this all time we spend here. And you haven't bought anything for yourself.'

'Lady Drago was so kind to share a meal with me,' I said with irritation as Uncle's hyperprotective attitude vexed me way too often.

'Wait a bit, darlings,' he addressed the two. 'The lunch will be ready right now.'

He put on the kettle and poured noodles to their bowls.

'This amount of pepper would corrode a stomach of steel,' he grunted tasting the contents.

'Space Marines were engineered by the Emperor Himself to be able to digest almost everything,' I said. 'By the way, to save up a bit, it'll be damn expensive to buy ten packages a day for you, brother. We'll need funds to rent a ship after we complete the case. Let's better gather some cellophane and cardboard garbage for you tomorrow so that your Betcher's gland can work properly. As for now, I advise you to eat the packaging as well.'

'But we're not in a combat zone.' Angel was puzzled but bit on the plastic packaging and chewed the piece.

'How can you feed people with paper and cellophane?' Uncle was angered by the proposition. 'Totally improper by any rules. From now on, food will be my responsibility like in our previous crew. Don't worry, Angel, we'll find enough cash for you as well. If not, I'll take up some job in the city.'

I took the dataslate and sat outside at the entrance. One by one, I browsed through numerous picts, conversation transcripts, earlier reports on similar cases. The candy package was a casual paper bag with a violet ribbon, one of the ribbon ends slightly wrinkled. Both the poisoned clerk and Ordinate Lacia looked almost the same, with no peculiar or suspicious traits. Prefectus Wycke's outlook was stylish and energetic, on the picture he held his hand out in an elegant gesture demonstrating his favourite ring. The colour and shape of the pearl looked unusual, most likely it had been imported from a distant aquatic world.

'Hey there!' I heard a friendly voice.

A brightly coloured trailer speeded down passing by the ours. Cheerful youths waved their hands at me from the open windows.

'You've come to the festival?' asked the driver who had greeted me.

'We're gonna spend a month or two here till Uncle gets a new job,' I answered with a smile.

'And we're a travelling circus. This is our fifth festival here, and you're welcome to see the performance.'

'Wow, that's your rodent?' A giggling girl looked out of the next window.

'A psyber-enhanced cricetid,' I said earnestly. 'A family heirloom, trained to be Uncle's assistant.'

'Wow. We definitely need you all in our jolly band.'

'We'll stop at the riverside,' said the driver. 'Come to visit us in the evening. There'll be a bonfire with baked apples and travel stories.'

'Looks like you've found new buddies.' Uncle smiled when I came in to charge my dataslate inside the owl.

'They've been to the city for a few times already. Let me ask a few innocent questions.'

The carefree laughing company made me recall my friends from the orphanage. My long-late friends. They still had the luxury of staying untainted by the horrors lurking beyond the fabric of reality. Sweet summer children, in their mid-twenties they still enjoyed the happy-go-lucky attitude I'd lost when I was eleven, ready to start chattering with every stranger of their age and accept them to their band.

They were sitting on pillows and blankets round a small bonfire, chattering with bursts of hearty laughter. The trailer driver started playing a harmonica, and the others helped him clapping and tapping the rhythm. When I came closer, he stopped playing and waved at me.

'You're welcome! Every year we get new friends aplenty at the festival, and some even stay with us. I'm Cecilio, the all-time entrepreneur and clown, here's Olivia the aerialist, Claudio the magician from a cruise void-frigate, Nella the musician, we picked her up here a couple years before...'

He presented all his friends cheerfully. They were closer to me in age and upbringing than the acolytes that had served along with me in my mentor's retinue.

'I'm Val,' I said. 'I lived in a Famulous orphanage once but Uncle came back from war and took me away. Now we travel here and there to find jobs.'

'Can your cricetid do tricks?' Olivia asked.

'He's a smart rodent. A bit wild though. He's not used to people, just to Uncle and me.'

'A treasure for any circus. We had a buddy with two psyber-dogs but he decided to settle in the capital. It's a shame you cannot perform this year but you may join when we leave. We'll teach your cricetid to dance to Nella's flute, and you can invent special tricks of your own.'

'If Uncle agrees.' I shook my head.

'Well, he's a military man. What about him performing as a sharpshooter?' Cecilio suggested. 'We make decent money during the touring season. Repairs and security are also a deal.'

'Five or six seasons, and you'll be able to save up for a room,' Claudio said shuffling cards. 'But wandering freedom is so irresistible you're unlikely to give it up.'

The bonfire shone bright in the dark of an autumn night. A kettle of steaming mulled cider rocking gently over the fire, tinfoil-wrapped apples and potatoes baking on hot rocks, the vagabonds' simple dinner was almost ready. The countryside was quiet and peaceful, distant plains and hills sparkling with glowing cottage windows. From time to time a train passed by, the eternal reminder of life running on without end.

Magga, an older girl who was repairing a colourful circus dress, reached for a nearby pouch and took out a bunch of plastic bags.

'Time to munch, buds.'

'You're our guest today so the first share is yours,' said Cecilio.

I chewed on a hot potato burning my lips and tongue, then sipped the sweet autumn cider.

'Have you already got a job here?' asked Olivia.

'Not yet, planning to do some cafe work. Brewing coffee, cleaning tables, something like that.'

'Good idea. They're always hiring season personnel in numbers before the festival.'

'Heard of a place in the center.' I felt it was time to make use of the conversation. 'Called Daisy.'

'A place with a story.' Cecilio grinned. 'Quite a salty one. We performed on a square nearby when Madam Atlas opened her coffeeshop last year. She was bursting with pride to have got out of the underhive.'

'Did you know her before?'

'I did,' said Nella. 'I used to play the flute in her old filthy bar in the slur districts. When she hooked up with the Prefectus, she decided I was no more fitting her upmarket place. The Alackaday bar was quite destitute when her incomes vanished with her husband's death.'

'Wages are fine there.' Cecilio nodded. 'But Madam Atlas and her minions are kinda picky. She's crazy about her newfound prestige.'

'Silk and velvet gowns everyday,' Nella chuckled. 'Boasting her purple pearl pendant, probably a gift from her lover.'

'I've never seen pearls like that, and I've travelled all across the sub-sector,' Claudio said. 'Must have cost a fortune for the poor fellow. She won't hire you if you arrive in this travelling coat. Do you have a dress?'

'Had to sell everything to buy a ticket to this planet and save up for the first days here.'

'The ours are worn and patched,' Olivia shook her head. 'We might lend you some cash.'

'I'll take some from our emergency account.'

'Fine, tomorrow Cecilio and I are going to the city to prepare the place and do some other boring formalities. Come along, let's buy you something fashionable to keep to Madam's exquisite tastes.'

The whole company roared with laughter. Hope they'll never learn who I really am, I thought bitterly. We were not allowed to have friends, my mentor would say, especially when we mourned fallen acolytes. Once one got friends with any of the comrades, soon another risky venture took the new buddy's life. I'd had friends in the orphanage, until the first bombs were dropped on the city.

When I sneaked back to the owl, everyone was already asleep save Uncle who always had job to do. He raised his head from my chainsword he was oiling and put the oil can aside.

'Go have some rest before tomorrow's business, lassie. The lazy ball of fur is already snoring. I asked him to help me with the guns but he got under the owl and stayed there till nightfall. Every Magos venerates machines, they say. Every Magos is obliged to work hard, they say.'

'Got worthy clues,' I boasted. 'So tomorrow I'll apply for part-time to the Daisy coffeeshop. Can't wait to see everything there with my own eyes.'

'Take care.' He frowned. 'Earlier, when you impersonated someone, a fully armed retinue was at hand. Now you're in charge. If you fail we're as easy to catch as a lone scared recruit in an open field.'

'If I fail, we'll take up a job at the circus. The guys have been fascinated by our imposing cricetid.'

'I'd agree for that just to see how the furry bastard dances to the flute for cookies and cheese. But I doubt all processed cheese in the galaxy is enough to make him work.'


	3. II

I woke up at sunrise, threw off the plaid and shoved snoring Fluffster in the side. He grumbled a few words in a language I didn't know but opened his beady eyes.

'I need your help, Fluffster. Your hacking skills. Take my slate and try to find as much as possible about Wycke and his affairs. Especially about the urgent departure of his secretary.'

'No need to hurry,' he growled scratching his shaggy belly.

'Lest I lend you to the circus troupe.' I winked at him.

'My dear, our company of leftovers is a circus team by itself. Try to be the star of the performance.'

'I'll apply for the job today, my new buddies will show me the place.'

'They'll shit their pants if they know who you are.'

'I'm not gonna tell them.'

Uncle was already awake, the last to bed, the first to get up as always. He had lit a gas burner and was boiling eggs in a large kettle.

'Good they have a convenience store at the station. I'm afraid I'll be late with the breakfast. The young'uns will wake up soon. But I haven't forgotten about the rodent.'

He pointed at a dozen cheese blocks put neatly onto a colourful paper plate.

'One of the young'uns is older than you, Uncle.'

'Does it really matter? He looks and acts like a boy. My son was like this. Both of the young'uns have seen so much crap, lassie. Let at least these days make them a bit happier.'

I looked at Angel and Sister cuddling up to Fluffster's sides peacefully.

'Good ones, aren't they? They will soften even a jaded man's heart. Strong from the outside, but always humble and grateful when you care about them. Sit down here, the eggs are almost ready. Fresh coffee in the pot.'

'I'll take it out to munch in the train. I need to buy some threads before going to the cafe.'

'The first dress since your orphanage years, lassie? Use the opportunity, Inquisitors seldom get a chance to wear that.'

I quickly wrapped my scarf round the neck and hurried to the platform where Cecilio and Olivia were waiting for me with paper cups of recaff from a vending machine. A train pulled to the opposite platform, and a crowd of city dwellers rushed out to spend one of the last sunny weekends at the countryside. Our platform was empty save us and an old lady with a basket of plums and apples.

'The old fox wants to raise the price again. I bet he's gonna lease the place to someone with a thicker wallet.' Cecilio was reading mail on his old cracked slate.

'Again?' Olivia frowned. 'As if the prepayment wasn't enough. Last year he leased our place to some candy sellers without even notifying us.'

'One has to fight for every single penny in our cruel world.' He put the dataslate back into his bag and finished his recaff.

'So, Val,' she said when we took our places in the train. 'There's a big mall next to the Infrastructure Department. Let's drop by there first, and then we'll get busy with the payments, and you'll try to get the job. The Daisy is ten minutes from there, just cross the bridge and get a level up to the boutique quarter. Third line to the left from the central square, a flashy purple sign.'

'Just don't be upset at the snobbish folks there,' Cecilio went on. 'You'll have to talk to either Madam herself or her bimbo ward. I dunno which is worse.'

'You're just cross Pimenta turned you down last year. But, Val, he's right they're quite quirky and picky. You'll need a classy dress but leave the coat on. They do like orphans and loners 'cause they're usually unscrupulous about wages. Nella said, hardly anyone had been employed for longer than a month. Girls from backwater planets who had to leave the city quickly.'

The way to the department took longer than my previous visit to the city. We took the same bus but rode almost to the end of the route to the very heart of the megapolis. Last morning clouds had disappeared, and the city looked fresh and cheerful in dazzling sunlight. Shining skyscrapers towered on both sides of crowded avenues, bright rows of red and yellow autumn trees separated sidewalks from the roadway.

We got off by three towers of sparkling glass connected with transparent galleries and suspension bridges.

'The central tower is the City Administratum, the one to the left is the mall.' Olivia pointed at the towers. 'We're just in time, an hour left till the clerks' lunchtime when they crowd the mall like crazy. If we have time, let's have a walk in the famous rooftop gardens. You have to see that, the city view from the top is just stunning.'

To my relief, we found and bought a suitable dress quite quickly. Palest pink and tiny pearl beads, something the orphanage girl I used to be had dreamed of wearing instead of a modest grey uniform frock. Olivia insisted on buying matching accessories as well.

'Posh enough to fit Madam's style but not too flashy to make them envious or suspicious,' she announced as I went out of the dressing room. 'Your shoes are quite worn but that's fine.'

The main elevator took us to the rooftop. Cecilio walked up to the very border and started showing his favourite districts along with jolly tales of their past festivals. City levels spread underneath, metal roofs shining in the sun, parks showing out like motley patches. Only the high spires stood taller than the Administratum complex, their crystal maze winding up to the azure sky.

A lattice of sparkling canals separated a nearby district to the left into neat quarters of old buildings.

'That's where the cafe is?' I asked.

'Do you see a large square with red flowerbeds? The third lane from the Long Bridge,' said Olivia.

'Write us a message whether they've taken you,' Cecilio nodded. 'We'll be busy till five or six, but afterwards we may meet here and go back together if your work time allows.'

We parted at the entrance of a gallery leading to the Administratum, and I went down to the sidewalks. Making my way through the crowd of weekend tourists making picts on the sunlit bridge, I checked the miniature camera in the lapel button of my coat. If my suspicions confirmed, I'd immediately send the logs to Drago.

Neat nostalgic buildings of the Old District reminded me of the calm world where I'd spend my childhood. Ice cream stalls, fashion boutiques, colourful summer terraces of retro-style restaurants. The violet sign of the Daisy coffeeshop was easy to notice from the center of the square. Pink daisies bloomed in large pots before the entrance, and even the sign and curtains were decorated with daisy patterns.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror door to smooth back my hair messed up by the wind, chuckling at the image no one ever expected from an inquisitor. A few customers were having their drinks in the shaded hall; a sassy cheerful girl was arranging candy packages on a shelf. When a little bell over the door tinkled, she turned her head towards me with a broad smile. A large pearl earring glistened in the sunrays falling through a half-curtained window.

'Hello, Miss,' she chirped. 'Would you prefer coffee or tea?'

'Hello.' I tried to sound polite and modest. 'I've come for the vacancy advertisement.'

The girl's welcoming smile left her face. She pointed at a back door behind the stall and got back to her candies. Drago will examine the pearl and the candies soon, I thought turning on the camera.

Madam Atlas was chilling in the back room with a cocktail and a dataslate when I knocked on the door and came in. She looked not much older than the girl, her flawless garment and the famous solitaire pendant covered with a large lace shawl.

'Good morning, ma'am.' I bowed my head. 'I've found your advertisement...'

'Hello there,' she interrupted me. 'We need workers for the festival season but you have to know we won't put up with slacking or stealing. Where are you from?'

She looked at me from head to feet, and I felt uneasy under her examining stare. I hoped blushing would assure her that I was but a provincial girl ready for any menial job to get some cash.

'Paquerina, ma'am.' I remembered one of the system's agri-worlds. 'I've come to earn a little for the long winter. Got no family to care for me.'

'Poor child.' Her voice softened. 'A bitter widow myself, I have particular compassion for loners and orphans. You look like an honest girl and you'll like your new job. Nothing too hard, you'll have to serve the tables and carry dishes to the kitchen, also to put desserts on plates in the evening hours.'

'Thank you, ma'am. You're so kind, ma'am.' I bowed my head again.

'Here you are, child.' She caught a slipped end of her shawl revealing the pearl right for a good picture for the case. 'Fill in the application form now. You'll start tomorrow at eight, and I insist on never being late to work.'

I sat on a chair in the corner with the sheet, trying to reach out with my psyker-sight carefully. Muted radiance. A latent psyker of about my power. I glimpsed at the pearl, and my heart skipped a beat. Madam Atlas startled and jerked her head up from the slate.

'Ma'am?' I asked innocently.

'Just my imagination.' She shook her head and sipped from her cocktail glass, but I felt a stealthy touch of her aura.

Atlas sensed a fellow psyonic's presence. Not a latent psyker, an unregistered one. Right in front of Domna Drago. I wasn't sure whether I should expose her to Drago as my own psyker status was quite dubious.

The door opened, and the cashier girl popped in putting on a glam jacket.

'Aunt Maia, Rourke has just arrived to the orbit. Gonna meet him.'

'He'll be so glad when you finally accept his proposal, dear. I'll wait for you two in the evening.'

'We'll have a stroll in the port. I just adore fancy people out there. Calvin will drive us back, don't worry, please.'

The girl kissed Atlas on the cheek and hurried out painting her lashes on the run. I handed the application to the lady and said goodbye.

The contract sounded better than I'd expected. Decent wage, free lunches and a good way to gather more clues behind their backs. It was a shame I'd flashed my psyker abilities way too early though. But that might be turned into an opportunity to get invited to the cult if there was one.

My circus buddies were still busy arranging their business matters so I decided to go to the closest park and find a free network spot to exchange a few messages on the case. My main dataslate had been taken by Fluffster, and an old vox-slate I had at hand was irritatingly slow and buggy. It connected to the network after three failed attempts, and I checked the inbox. One incoming from Uncle, one from Fluffster.

I quickly entered the inquisitorial decoding password covering the screen to avoid public cameras and opened the first message. 'Lassie, going to the port to meet a friend of old. Will be back late, take care of the young'uns.' What a chance. I connected the camera to the slate and sent him a pict of Pimenta. 'Please watch out for this one. Try to ask about the captain named Calvin Rourke if possible.'

Fluffster's letter was longer and ciphered in a much trickier way. He had managed to hack the Administratum network in a few hours - a skill to be envied, an advantage available to the scions of Sacred Mars. My suspicions concerning Wycke seemed to be well-grounded. The delegation list had been altered right before the departure, and the secretary hadn't been intended to embark before. Moreover, no regular astropathic transmissions from the ship had arrived yet. I asked Fluffster to find more on the Flores Mortuorum just in case, then started typing a message to Drago.

It was strange that Wycke was out of her circle of potential suspects. She might be either too rigid to get past her regular investigation patterns or, in the worst case, be involved in the cult activities herself. Being a disciple of a fallen Radical, I had had to learn about the dark side of my job in a hard way. I wished there was anybody who could give me advice whether to trust her.

I took a deep breath and continued typing. 'Lady Drago, I've done some insider investigation concerning a few minor clues, and have to report that peculiar gemstones like the one worn by Wycke are owned by Madam Atlas and her ward and are strongly suspicious of being warp-infused. A possible link to the Flores yet to be explored.'

I pressed the 'send' button and put the vox-slate back into my pocket. Let Drago examine the attached picts and do her part of the job. Four post meridiem. The sun will set in a couple of hours.

After a stroll in the park looking at the bright falling leaves I had a snack in a cheap sandwich bar, listened to music on my slate. Another message arrived with a light tinkle. 'Congrats, Val! Meet you on the bus stop at seven.' Shadows got longer, torrents of crimson sunset light poured from between glistening skyscrapers towering over the Old District, restaurants opening their doors for luxurious parties. Music and laughter filled the streets, and I blended in with the crowd of happy loiterers.

Surprisingly, as the main cafe and boutique streets were peopled and noisy, sidestreets got empty at nightfall. A few steps aside from brightly lit restaurants, and you hardly see anyone apart from random drunkards eager to get rid of their drinks and meals. I decided to cut the way short and pass through a few sidestreets to get to the bridge in time.

I sneaked past a couple kissing under a tree, crossed a few pitch-dark passages between blank back walls of some fashion boutiques. A lanky, shaking shadow jumped from behind the next corner. A smell of cheap booze struck my nose. Desperate, but hardly dangerous for any inquisitorial operative, if only...

'You, there,' he wheezed out, and I saw a jack-knife in his trembling hand.

I stepped forward, ducked under his arm, grabbed his wrist. A simple psychic trick would be just in time. But his reaction surprised me.

'Wi-i-i-itch,' he howled in utter terror.

His fingers loosened, and the knife tinkled against the pavement. He just froze, not even trying to retreat let alone fight.

'Witches everywhere, everywhe-e-ere,' he whined on. 'Alackada-a-a-ay. I've lost me eye to a witch. A vulpine monster. I touched it unawares. Looked so innocent. A damsel in distress. Five mo-o-ore. Alackada-a-ay. I wanted to buy some booze. Alackada-a-ay.'

It sounded like complete nonsense but gave me sudden chills. He swayed on his infirm legs, repeating the same rambling phrases. His swollen face showed deadly, animal fear. Was it a coincidence that his favourite interjection sounded like the name of Madam Atlas' bar?

'It's coming. Vulpine maw. Extensile limbs.'

Not the words a drunken beggar uses often. A quick leap - and the mysterious attacker disappeared behind the same corner. I put on a glove and picked up his knife for further investigation. If I was lucky, I could have just stumbled upon a cultist or at least a drug consumer.

Puzzled by the encounter, I hurried to the bus stop. Right at seven I was sitting on a bench waiting for my buddies.

'Hi there!' Olivia pushed her way through the passengers. 'Congrats again! Cecilio's buying stuff, will be here in a few minutes. Just imagine, the clerks have gone nuts. Wanted us to pay the full leasing price even before the festival began.'

'So then?'

'Managed to get a discount to seventy percent. Still a hole in the pocket. A week to wait till it starts bringing income.'

When we got into the bus, I decided to ask a casual question.

'Even the Old District isn't that safe at night. Have you seen that sick freak before?'

'You mean Virgil the Drunkard,' Cecilio chuckled. 'We should have warned you. Mostly harmless but scary for those who run into him for the first time.'

'He had a knife.'

'He hasn't cut anyone for real. Trying to mug tourists who stray from the main streets. He's got loony since last year.'

'He mumbled something about witches, damsels and foxes.'

'Pink spiders.' Olivia sighed. 'He drinks anything that can be lit. Last year somebody beat him up badly at one of his mugging attempts and gouged his eye out.'

'Lost his eye to a witch, he said.'

'Do you believe in witches? Anyone looks like a witch when you're seeing snakes.'

There were no further adventures on the way back. The owl was as quiet and relaxed as in the morning. Fluffster was chewing on cheese blocks with his usual sour grimace, Uncle was pouring hot soup into Angel's and Sister's bowls. Angel gave me a friendly smile, Sister stared into her bowl with sad, blank eyes. I reached out to pat her on the shoulder but Uncle stopped me.

'She's seen a nightmare during a nap today,' he whispered into my ear. 'Let her have dinner first.'

I hadn't seen Imudon dreams for a few days but Sister's horrors on board the Black Legion barge and the gruesome deaths of her subordinate novices haunted her every time she closed her eyes. Angel had superhuman resilience of his kind but we knew his grief was no less deep. We had bonded over common sorrows, and I felt guilty about leaving them for the whole day to laugh and chatter with much easier new buddies.

'What a nice dress you've got, lassie,' Uncle smiled. 'A true little lady these cruel times don't let you be. At an age when you should chill out with friends and dream about your future wedding. Is it alright when you take care for your kids to raise them as good people, to give them decent life, and then drugged blasphemous scum rips them to pieces?'

Good, old-fashioned Uncle. He didn't approve of young people, especially girls, taking up arms but he had reasons. As everyone in our small team, he had his own nightmares of past. Years after the riot, he still mourned the dreadful news about his son and daughter killed in an uneven skirmish and his wife whose heart had stopped on learning that.

'I don't mind if those who have lived for long enough go to war, lassie. But young'uns shouldn't feed the graveworms.'

'We go not to the worms.' Sister raised her head. 'To the Emperor's light.'

'He loves His children even more than I love mine,' Uncle said bitterly. 'He wants you to live your life for He sacrificed Himself so humanity could thrive on.'

I hated to see him that sad.

'Well, Uncle.' I changed the subject. 'How did you like the port?'

'That's what we'd better talk about.' His voice livened up. 'A good port, like in the days when I was as young as you. Cheerful tourists, not battered soldiers. Had to hurry up, barely got in time to meet Fusario on the landing. He found a good contract a year ago. A young and daring rogue trader hired a few mercenaries for his last mission. Fusario's always been much more hot-headed than me, and he never approved of my service with the Inquisition. Revenge is revenge, he says, but he'd hate to shoot me down one day.'

'He prefers pesky contracts?'

'Lassie, I'm polite enough to avoid such talks. We've been friends for decades, born in the same years, in the same slur blocks. What he said about his former boss - the lad's bonkers with love. You've sent me a pict of a fancy young miss with a purple earring, haven't you?'

I pricked up my ears.

'She arrived to the terminal to meet Captain Rourke. A pair of happy lovebirds. She threw his arms around his neck, decorated his hat with a lovely daisy. Fusario said, they'll get engaged soon. Rourke has brought her a posh engagement ring, and she promised to offer him a cravat pin with a similar purple pearl.'

'That's why I asked you to watch out for them. These pearls will make me crazy one day,' I growled. 'Every big shot in this damn city has one. Your friend turned out to have worked for Calvin Rourke. The Prefectus, the coffeeshop owner, her ward have the same bloody pearls. You may ask Fusario to purloin Rourke's gem.'

'Lassie, he's a scoundrel but he'd never agree to ruin his reputation. I'd hate to mix up my job and my friendships.'

'Your job with the Ordo is sacred,' I said solemnly. 'It must be put before any mundane affairs.'

'You say so because you're young and idealistic. You don't have any life apart from your hanging around with these beagles. If, or I'd say, when any of your new buddies become friends, would you mind giving them up for the sake of your operative goals?'

'I'm young, Uncle. I still need someone to tell me more about what people are and what life is. My mentor was never willing to even think about such matters. He loved giving long logical explanations of his extravagant ideas but never cared about anyone but himself.'

'That's it. Life will show you what to do and what to choose, lassie. So many mysteries, so many dangers.'

'By the way, a supposed cultist attacked me in the Old District.' I recalled the 'trophy' knife. 'The circus guys say he's harmless but I didn't like his ramblings. Way too similar to what possessed psykers usually mutter. Some vulpine thing is coming, he said, and there was a witch who gouged his eye out last year. I've taken his jack-knife, gonna give it to Drago after work tomorrow.'

'Let her deal with the case now. She knows local folks better than you, lassie. Moreover, you have another job to do now? When does your workday start?'

'Eight in the morning.'

'So I'd advise you to stop racking your brains and have some well-deserved rest. Let the morn come, and the food with it.'


	4. III

There was darkness. Cyclopean walls strewn by countless crimson candles formed a vault of unthinkable height. Even a possessed madman's twisted mind wasn't able to imagine a place half as terrible at that. A place of unearthly horror and despair. Bloodcurdling voices chanted a blasphemous hymn of unwords, and a tall figure's shadow fell over me.

I lay helpless on icy cold stone, unable to move, unable to cry out. Imudon's shape loomed over me, every rune on his ancient armour echoing with dull pain in my soul. Torches of dark red warpflame burned bright on his backpack but his face was so shaded I could see but his eyes glowing with the same nightmarish light. He raised the sacrificial dagger of black flint over me, and his dreadful voice sounded in my head.

'The longer you evade me, the worse shall be your fate. The sacrifice has to be completed. You are no more yours since your heart was marked by the sign of the gods.'

'I am His,' I thought almost unconsciously, and felt the Chaos priest's cold wrath boiling inside.

'He will never get up from His throne to help you, wretched little being. You've been claimed by another power on that night. You reported the most sacred mystery to your lowly accomplices. You rejected the gift.'

'What deal are you trying to impose on me, you old freak?' I tried to cheer myself up with a cheeky smile.

'Things are serious now, petty inquisitor. If you have an ounce of wisdom, give in to your fate. Accept your destiny and give out your heart to the athame's blessing. If you stop clinging to your faith of self-deception, you will get a royal reward. If not... look around with due attention.'

Against my will my soul left the body rising higher to the colossal vault. Miles above the ground, taller than any opulent basilica on a capital planet. To the psyker-vision, that was no black stone. Uncounted millions of shattered, mutilated bodies thrown in monstrous piles, humans alongside thousands of unknown xenos species. Each candle's ethereal fire cried of torment and despair; far beneath nightmarish altars stood ready for sacrifice, and deep below the ground, uncounted captives were suffering in evernight undervaults with no hope to get free.

'The longer you evade me, the direr your sorrow shall be.' I heard his voice again. 'If you have an ounce of wisdom, call for me, and my messenger will arrive to take you here.'

'I'm on duty, old bastard.' I fought with fear as hard as I could. 'My work ethics forbid to leave the investigation because of some lousy josser's whims.'

'One day, the messenger appears at your door, and that will be the day of tears.'

I returned to my body as the athame touched the sigil over my heart, and I cried out in excruciating pain.

With a gasp I opened my eyes and sat up trying to get out of the plaid tangled around my feet. My limbs were trembling as if in fever, cold sweat and tears running down my face. The nightmarish vision of the dark shrine vanished, and I was back to the heartwarming calm of the owl. Sister stirred in her sleeping place, startled by my cry. Angel sat up and turned towards me.

'Let the Emperor's light dispel the night horrors.' He put his hand on my shoulder. 'Remember the noble virtue of Sanguinius and his sacrifice to chase away any thoughts that pester you.'

'The accursed josser.' I wiped my eyes. 'He's back to stalking me.'

'He's a cursed traitor.' I heard Sister's voice. 'The Emperor will punish him. Pray to Him to protect you from the heretic's filthy attacks.'

Fluffster's furry paw pushed the marine aside.

'This might be not that easy but you should try to remember the nightmare in detail. Some stuff can be useful for the investigation.'

'Nothing to deal with the pearls, Fluffster. Not even the cave I saw in my previous Imudon visions. The hulking traitor brute again, much creepier than in real life, red eyes glowing on a fully shaded mug.'

I could feel how alert Fluffster was now.

'Go on, Volentia.'

I retold him the visions trying not to burst out in tears.

'That's getting too disturbing quicker than we could have expected,' he grumbled back.

'He demanded to arrive there lest he does some nasty thing to me. I told him to bugger off.'

'This kind of stalkers never forgets rudeness. You call yourself a pious person but you haven't tried the obvious way.'

I could utter any simple litany or fold my hands in the holy sign of the Aquila, I thought with vexation. But I was way too used to relying on myself first.

'His Holy Name frightens daemons and their servants as fire drives off predators of the wild.' Sister nodded. 'We're weak while He is strong.'

Her trauma had erased or suppressed most of her reactions, and almost all phrases she spoke were scraps of sermons she had heard before the fateful assault. Strikingly similar, Angel was only learning to think out of the box of his Chapter indoctrination. Yet their kindness and affection were obvious even in these solemn words. For us deprived of most protective parental figures, the Emperor was no pompous golden idol secretly despised by spoiled fat cats. We truly believed in His neverending love, and the hope for His assistance helped us to live through another day of hardships.

Uncle woke up at the trailer wall and grouched at Fluffster.

'It's the middle of the damn night, you lump of fur. Leave the lassie alone, she has to get up at six.'

'Visions are clues,' Fluffster said. 'I've already heard all things important, and I won't disturb Volentia anymore.'

We all got back to our sleeping places, and luckily the nightmare didn't repeat on that night as well as the following one.

Nothing happened during my first working week. Wages were paid daily, and Maia suspected nothing when I volunteered to take overtime job in the weekend without any days off. Sometimes in the lazy hours between breakfast and lunch, sometimes in the evening rush, when both coffeeshop ladies were too busy, I tried to observe the place here and there.

All the other workers had been the owner's acquaintances since her old days in the underhive, so they were quite reluctant to accept season employees into their close-knit company. Friendly in general but never eager to talk to me save a few brief phrases and, unfortunately, avoiding any personal conversations in my presence.

Victor, a hulking brute looking like a typical slur mobster, was always busy carrying crates and packages of milk, candies, food ingredients. His aunt was washing piles of plates and cups I brought to the kitchen. Ricko, a teen boy who lived in the same district and happened to be Calvin Rourke's younger brother, often took errands for Madam Atlas.

Having an only confirmed clue about the cafe, I paid most attention to candy packages displayed on the cash desk. As they were quite expensive, Maia and her ward were the only ones who handled them, forbidding the others to even touch them. Some packages had smooth ribbons, the other ribbons were wrinkled. As for the package colours, there were seven of them. Usually Pimenta didn't let customers enter behind the desk and chose a package herself.

After a few days I noticed that every customer who took pink and purple packages with wrinkled ribbons had a purple clothing detail or gemstone accessory on. Maybe just a coincidence, but the possible connection with the strange pearls seemed suspicious. Drago had got my report about the gems but was still searching for any mentioning of similar things in the archives. She wrote in her last message that she had sent a request to the sub-sector Conclave Archive.

I used every moment, when Pimenta was busy, to reach out with the psyker-sight. Though briefly, I managed to catch background disturbance concentrated around the cash desk and the back wall. I often walked along the wall and even touched its surface carrying cups to the kitchen but there were no cavities or locks. The investigation had seemingly got stuck.

During the weekend rush hours I even made up a plan to track any 'purple' customer and try to steal the candies but there was an unpleasant perspective of getting arrested and outed as an inquisitor.

The opening day of the festival began as usual. Both Maia and her ward had put on their best dresses and greeted every customer with dazzling cheerful smiles. About an hour after the opening Atlas suddenly called me to the back room. She sealed a scented envelope with pink wax and handed it to me.

'Alackaday, girl, poor Ricko has got a bad cold, and this letter has to be delivered urgently. You'll get half of your daily wage if you manage to bring it to the mansion of Master Prefectus as soon as possible.'

A great chance. A unique opportunity. I nodded eagerly with all my working enthusiasm and grabbed the envelope. A minute later I was running through the gathering festive crowd to the bus station. The weather was misty and cloudy, and I stuffed the letter to the bottom of my bag before first raindrops fell on the pavement. Colourful locals and tourists in fancy garbs were chatting, dancing, buying refreshments at large stalls with all kinds of sweets and snacks.

I felt a strong temptation to look inside the envelope in some suitable place but gave it up. Prefectus Wycke mustn't suspect anything before we get closer. I texted Uncle to rent a car at a tourist camp near the trailer park and wait for me on the station. Wycke's mansion was tricky to get by train or bus, about twenty miles from the railroad in a well-guarded gated community built for the richest merchants and top-level officials. Maybe even Drago herself hadn't visited it yet, following the unwritten code of such worlds. Sadly, the further I studied her solved cases, the more she looked like a mere district sheriff rather than an independent agent of the Throne. On the one hand, established contacts with all important groups, on the other hand, getting stuck in the planet's rigid ways of life.

When I got out of the train and ran down the platform stairway, Uncle was already there with the car. Modest but neat and solid, the steel-grey car with shaded windows would be good for both this mission and further visits to the slurs if necessary.

We turned left at the railway bridge and headed to the hills along the riverbank. It started raining, and soon we could see but a few meters of the road not shrouded by the grey impenetrable veil of drizzle.

'Do you know the way well enough?' Uncle asked nervously.

'I looked it up in the bus. Madam Atlas gave me pretty accurate coordinates and a pass.'

I got a small card with the cafe emblem and stuck it onto the windshield. Soon a few road signs appeared one by one. At the last sign we speeder down. 'Honey Vale, 2 miles.' A minute later we saw the outlines of the gated community, each villa looking more like a small castle by size and fortification.

The pass on the windshield allowed us to enter the automatic gate, but inside two armed guards stopped us to ask a few regular questions about our destination and purpose, than pointed at a cumbersome grey mansion towering over its neighbours in the end of the street.

'One of the newest here,' Uncle chuckled when we drove closer to the villa's massive concrete fence. 'The newer, the more imposing.'

'He's got to his high position a few years ago. Now trying to intimidate the others not to feel like an outsider in this snobbish village.'

'A letter from Madam Atlas,' I said into the intercom microphone at the entrance. 'Master Ricko is ill, and Madam sent me instead.'

'Hold the pass to the scanner under the mic,' a grumpy voice answered.

'Where shall I park the car?'

'Garage number two, stack eight. To the right, next to the shed.'

The massive gate opened slowly. While Uncle was dealing with the parking, I walked towards the house past a few pompous ironwork lamps and withering flowerbeds. Even trees are no more than yearlings here. A large, neat yard with nobody seen or heard around. Red eyes of cameras stared at me from every lamp post, the porch, the windows. I prayed to the Emperor he had no means to find out who I am by these vid-logs.

I pressed on the doorbell button. The door opened almost instantly, and a surly woman looked out at me.

'From Madam Atlas? Master Prefectus is busy right now. You'll have to wait for the answer in the hall. Give me the envelope.'

I handed over the letter and followed her through the tastelessly decorated hall with gilded columns and gaudy paintings. She pointed at a sofa next to a monumental door. When she left, I sat down and looked around just to kill time and maybe get a few new clues or hints.

A stupendous portrait of the owner whom the painter had flatteringly depicted with almost primarch-level majesty. A few plain forest landscapes. Doors and columns with whimsically carved ornaments of legendary beasts and arabesque patterns.

The vox-slate tinkled in my pocket. I shielded the screen from the cameras and opened the message. Domna Drago's reserve account. 'Interesting news. See you after your workday.' Most likely, the Archive had provided data on the request. If I'm lucky enough, my first case will be solved soon.

Another quarter of an hour passed in silence, then I heard voices from behind the door. Either an argument or an agitated discussion. The voices got closer and louder, and I could make up a few words.

'Just made it to... Your business... Dilly-dally...' grouched one.

'An order... Hasn't dispensed...' snapped the other.

'All in?'

'We lose nothing. They don't have time.'

The door opened, and a stout man walked out quickly, his face red with anger. Prefectus Wycke himself. I stood up and bowed my head.

'The answer for my dear Madam,' he said dryly. 'And your tip.'

He didn't even look at me when I took the envelope from his hand. The purple pearl in the ring seemed to glow in the lamplight. With the other hand he still held a vox-slate to his ear, and he hurried to a side corridor loudly discussing quarry shares.

I left the hall and went down the porch. The envelope was simpler than the lady's, parchment paper sealed with golden wax. I recalled the circus lads chattering about their romantic mesalliance affair. Not incredible but still extravagant to send errand boys and girls with love letters. If these are love letters at all, of course. Some criminals or cultists tend to use paper letters to avoid data hacking and destroy the letter right after reading it. Some even coat the sheets with special poison in case the courier is tempted to open the envelope.

One thing was intuitively disturbing - Drago's message arrived at the same time something startled Wycke. 'Hasn't dispersed.' I put the envelope in my bag and examined the tip - a wrinkled ten-credit banknote. He was a generous man, I had to admit. The note had neither strange stains nor any warp traces, so I put it in to the letter. Let Fluffster examine it, and then it would become a good adding to our unsound budget.

When I sat into the car, Uncle was quite gloomy and started talking only after we left Honey Vale and drove closer to the railroad bridge.

'Quite a fishy place, lassie. Have you heard anything?'

'Drago has found out something. I'll meet her in the evening.'

'I didn't waste time while waiting. Found good use for the cyber-moth Corydoras gave us before the landing.'

'The storehouse?'

'Exactly. No one will suspect a cornmeal moth flying in and out. Warp presence confirmed, that's all I can say. I bet he stores his drugs there. Let's see the logs on your slate.'

Blurred images were hard to examine in detail on the small screen but I saw long rows of shelves. Lots of crates and cardboard boxes. Warp-tainted ones were marked with red dots in the analysis app. Some were even familiar.

'Victor has brought in at least a dozen crates like this one. I'll take the moth to work tomorrow.'

'Risky, lassie. It's easier to notice a moth in the cafe. Just try to use your sight from time to time.'

'That might work when the place is crowded.'

I typed a message to Maia, and she replied my workday would be over after I delivered the answer. I called Drago immediately. 'The vox-slate is switched off or outside the coverage area.' She'd never turned it off before and always carried powerbanks in her bag like most inquisitors. The same ten minutes later. In half an hour, after a few more unsuccessful calls, Uncle frowned with visible anxiety. He didn't like when a situation developed not as planned. I dialled the number of the main office.

Rings. A male voice answered.

'Interrogator Abelard, Lady Volentia.'

'Lady Drago has invited me to a meeting this evening, but she is out of reach for almost an hour.'

'We've been going to inform you, ma'am.' His tone was sour. 'A very troublesome accident. A reckless driver crashed into her car on the Third Park Bridge an hour ago. The car fell to the canal.'

'And she's...'

'Alive, don't worry, ma'am. Still unconscious, in our hospital. Unfortunately, her dataslates have been damaged, and our tech-priest is currently on the leave. Maybe your Magos could be of help, as you're the one in charge of the investigation while she's recovering.'

'Have you found the hotshot?'

'His car. Left in the underhive streets. The number is false. According to the base, the car belongs to the Flores.'

'I'll be at yours in about a couple hours. Please send me the exact coordinates of the car's location.'

I opened the file and quickly explained the situation to Uncle.

'Ready to bet that was the 'order' Wycke mentioned. Looks like the rivalry between the Alackaday and the Flores is no more than shadow boxing. Two heads of the same hydra, distracting Drago's attention. Take our bruisers there while me and Fluffster are trying to retrieve the sensational discovery.'

I picked up a few advertisement posters on the scrapyard near the trailer park. No one would pay attention to Fluffster if he posed as a cyber-animal mascot.

Angel and Sister met the new mission with enthusiasm after a week they had to spend idly in the owl.

'We'll deliver His justice to His foes,' the Blood Angel said solemnly.

'Grab at least one Flores goon. Loosen their tongues and try to find out as much as possible. Wycke will be next if we find confirmed connection.'

Fluffster looked at the colourful posters with cautious disgust.

'Again me going as a silly beast.'

'I've searched for a while to find ads of your favourite cheese.' I smiled and patted his shaggy paw.

Twilight was falling over the park. In the evening the fog got almost impenetrable, so I hoped no one saw them get into the car. For the third time on that day I boarded a shabby train on the station. The carriage was quiet and relatively empty, a few drowsy passengers hardly paid attention to a funny pair of street promoters. We chose a bench in the back end of the carriage.

'It's a shame to look at a cheese picture instead of having a real slice.' Fluffster sighed.

'The fellow gave me a nice tip. We'll buy some on the way back.'

The evening festivities were in full swing when we got to the Old District at last. I left Fluffster at the fair to enjoy the delicacies and hurried to the cafe. Madam Atlas wasn't content the quest had taken so long but was occupied by some private business. She listened to my 'clumsy' excuses not even looking up from her cogitator, her face unusually puzzled and weary. Pimenta was the exact opposite of her guardian, chirping into her slate, trying on long opulent necklaces before Maia's large mirror.

'Please wait a bit, Freckle.' She giggled, 'I'm ready, almost ready! Let's choose some special cute stuff for tomorrow! Just can't wait anymore. No, you'll see it tomorrow evening, honey! It's even more awesome than you can ever think!'

Fluffster was strolling along the gaudy lines of fair stalls with a few paper bags in his paws.

'I've missed quite normal places like this for years,' he told me when we crossed the bridge to the bus stop. 'It would be a total waste if it turns into a mess of tentacles and other crap because of some bunch of lowly scoundrels.'

I put my finger to my lips nervously.

'No one cares, dear. No one has cared about me being a damn two-meter rodent at the fair. I'm just another hapless dude forced to wear a stupid promotional suit by the horrors of unemployment. Better open these packages to munch something before the next part of your workday.'

Chewing the last cookies in haste, I passed through the gate and entered Drago's office. Her cabinet was now occupied by Interrogator Abelard, a sour-faced lanky man of undefined age.

'Another suspect?' He nodded at the cricetid.

'My Magos, sir. His body transfer is a special story for another day, so I had to use the posters for a credible disguise.'

'I was unable to reanimate the slates, so we have to put our hope on you, venerable Magos.' He pulled a plastic bag out of a table drawer.

'Can I see Lady Drago, sir? Direct psychic contact might be of use to extract some knowledge.'

'I wouldn't advise that, ma'am. Lady Drago's suffered a cerebral injury after the fall, and any pressure is more than likely to be fatal. With the best methods of treatment, we expect her to come to herself no earlier than tomorrow or even later.'

'Are there proven contacts between the Flores and the Atlas family?' I asked Abelard approaching the shelves with Drago's solved cases.

'I have to apologize I'm not a native of this city so I'm not as aware of the underhive intrigues as Lady Drago, ma'am. As far as I know, Glyceris, the current head man of the Flores, was a friend of Maia Atlas' late husband though we don't have viable proofs of their joint criminal affairs. Alackaday was a fishy place with numerous cases of drug trade but it's the concern of the Administratum, not ours to fuss about. As long as they don't meddle with the warp, of course.'

'What else can be their reason to attack Drago?'

'That's it.'

I told him about my visit to Wycke's mansion and showed the logs filmed by the cyber moth.

'An obvious sentence for Lord Prefectus,' he chuckled. 'Though the interference of the Flores seems totally weird. They have severed their ties with Maia since she left the slurs to exchange their patronage to Wycke's. And Wycke has never worked with the Flores before. Warp drugs have never been a matter of concern for them, all recent clashes with us being due to their use of unsanctioned psykers for espionage and communication.'

'That's why I've sent my hitmen there.'

'You're ready to risk your acolytes?' He narrowed his eyes.

'Let's see how they can cope with a Blood Angel.'

Time passed unbearably slowly while Fluffster was tinkering with the slates. My own slate was silent as well. No news from either side. Abelard was napping in his boss' armchair over the keyboard. I poured myself some coffee not to fall asleep.

'Done.' Fluffster wiped his forehead and handed me one of the slates. 'At last.'

'At last.' I opened the file list with a sigh.

The latest upload, a familiar inquisitorial cypher. 'Provided by the Archive of the Tagetes Sub-sector High Conclave. Crown of the Vulpine Princess of Excess. Danger level: Extremis. Forged by an unknown cultist artisan from materials retrieved from a daemonworld, this artefact is shaped in the form of a crown with six purple pearls of unusual shape and sheen. Each pearl contains a part of the vile essence of Lutetia the Vulpine Princess of Excess, a Keeper of Secrets subdued and bound by the craftsman. Previously owned by a number of notorious heretics, the last one being the Decadent Duke of Astra Mortifera who fell in a duel with a rival Chaos Lord Aphedron Pansexualis previously known as the Magnificent who strived to obtain the accursed relic. He is known to have sent the crown away to a secret place before the duel, so it did not fall into Aphedron's hands. Current location unknown.'

Abelard opened his eyes while I was reading the file and looked into the slate over my shoulder.

'Six, the number of the Dark Prince.' He frowned. 'First time in a couple of centuries, a real daemon-invoking cult. One pearl owned by Maia, you said, one by Pimenta, one by Wycke.'

'One is to be offered to Rourke on the day of his betrothal to Pimenta. One probably owned by Glyceris, the last one... probably by Lacia. I'd say she could have been sent away not only to conceal her involvement, but likely to invite some traitorous or daemonic host to this world. I've encountered with the said Aphedron Pansexualis already, and can say for sure he's ready to ravage a defenceless civilized planet like yours.'

I recalled Virgil the Drunkard's ramblings about the vulpine monster.

'By the way, sir, dispatch a few acolytes to find the mad hobo of the Old District. He's hardly aware of what he whines about but psychic examination will provide more details about this threat's nature.'

I dialled Uncle's number with impatience. Rings, no answer. I tried once more. The call was rejected but a messenger notification beeped instead. Incoming vid-log.

Not much could be seen because of the meager street lights in the slurs but I recognized Uncle's car moving towards a dark wasteland somewhere between the underhive parking stacks. A battered car had been left at the very edge next to a large pile of rubbish and corroded carcasses of fridges and bicycles. Uncle gets out of the car, approaches the left one with a gun in his hand. A hardly visible movement behind the garbage pile. Uncle draws, hiding behind the car. Two shots at the same time, the garbage slides down a little. Two tall silhouettes appear from both sides of the pile slowly advancing to Uncle's hideout. A third one, slightly shorter than the two, walks from an empty garage stack with a large stubber gun at ready.

They stall at once as the Angel gets out of the car and stands fully upright activating his power claws. Unable to withstand His mighty warrior, they drop their weapons to the ground immediately.

'So what's up now?' I typed into the chat window.

'Glyceris himself has arrived to see us, lassie. He swears he's nothing to do with the heresy of your current employer. He invites you to talk to him in private.'

Too easy to be true, I thought. But every bit of evidence could be key to the completion of our work.

'Have a well-armoured car prepared for a jolly ride, Interrogator. We go to the underhive right now.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters will be posted on June 10.


	5. IV

Venturing to the slurs in the middle of the night was a crazy idea indeed so I enlisted the assistance of a few gunmen from Drago's retinue just in case Glyceris decided to set a particular trap for me. Having three seasoned veterans right in their lair, I didn't have real reasons for trouble though. One Angel is enough to rip to pieces at least Glyceris' personal henchmen if not his entire cartel.

The way took quite long. After we went past populated festival quarters, there was a lengthy ride through sleepy quiet residential districts and suburbs. Level by level we descended into the city's dark maw till the highway got us to the perpetual night of the subterranean blocks. Originally intended for sewages and garbage storage, they had developed into a separate city populated by all kinds of scoundrels, off-roaders and outsiders. Many of those inhabitants seldom saw daylight at all, being born and dying in dim orange lamplight.

'They occupied the former garages and dwellings of the first colonists centuries ago. Most of these blocks were abandoned when the Old District was built,' said one of the gunmen. 'My first years passed here, in a hut of cogitator boxes in a large sewage reservoir. Luckily I managed to leave it before the infamous housing crisis of flat-screen monitors.'

'Where do big shots like Glyceris live then?'

'Even sewages can be remade into palaces.' He chuckled. 'That's why he may have had reasons to bargain with Wycke. And goons are in shitloads here. Ready to build him a castle for a bowl of instant noodles.'

The wasteland was at the edge of the slurs where cheap parkings were built next to a quarter of blackmarket shops and drug bars. Most of the upper-level visitors never went past these lanes.

Three figures stood smoking near the cars. One of them was Uncle, the other two were likely the attackers from the vid-log. Uncle threw the cigarette to the ground and waved at us. I touched the laspistol under my cloak. It would be hard to be really intimidating in my work attire even with a bulletproof vest on, and I had to rely on bluff, audacity and my boss' reputation. Being an inquisitor is quite sinister by itself, so let a cheeky smile and a pink dress add in some creepy contrast to the image. With my firmest pace I approached the three and greeted them in the most relaxed way.

'Master Glyceris' envoys, ma'am,' Uncle presented the two solemnly.

A man and a woman strikingly similar, they bowed their heads lightly. The man was almost a dandy in city clothing with a lazy general overlook while the woman reminded me of a few fishy individuals my mentor used to hire from time to time. Glowy baubles, seer crystals and a wraithbone pendant. Thanks to Acrolux' lessons, I managed to concentrate just in time when a sneaky psychic glimpse tried to peep into my thoughts. It was a shame I was too weak as a psyker for a harsh backlash.

'Thank you for inviting me to Master Glyceris' renowned reception,' I said with a bit of irony. 'To a wonderfully libertine place where no witch ever cares about witch hunters.'

'Madam is both at the same time - what an example of dialectical dualism.' The man puffed out a ringlet of smoke and pulled an easy smile. 'You're welcome to the shady kingdom of the Flores, so let us escort you to the king's court.'

I got to Uncle's car and exchanged friendly handshakes with Angel and Sister. The venture had cheered them up obviously, even Sister's weary sadness had been eased by the need to fight in the Emperor's name.

'We're in the right place here when we serve, not hide idly.' Angel nodded.

'The criminal woman is an unsanctioned witch,' Sister whispered with anxiety and indignation. 'We have to examine this place carefully and purge it to protect the innocent civilians above.'

'Looks like the place where I work is way more unclean than these slurs.' I frowned. 'There are firm accusations against Atlas.'

'Take us there tomorrow,' said the marine.

'I have a plan already, so you'll act accordingly. Be nice fellows while I'm going to get one more important piece of the puzzle.'

We rode through the blackmarket quarter that was a little crowded hive by itself and stopped before a real palace it its very heart. It occupied the whole building of the colonists' base, generously decorated by glowing signs and architectural frivolities. A large neon emblem of an orange and black marigold flower reminiscent of a grinning skull glared from the steel leaves of the palace's pompous gate.

Flanked by a towering giant in crimson armour and a Repentia with blessed scrolls and a sacred chainsword, followed by a belligerent squad of heavily armed acolytes, I entered the gate and walked solemnly to Glyceris' private quarters. While still in the car, I had donned my rosette and now the intimidating symbol made the local goons retreat at first sight.

Glyceris got up to his feet, when we came in, and bowed his head graciously. Still imposing in his mature years, he was well-dressed and looked quite affable, more like a respectable civil servant or merchant than a crime boss.

'Nice to meet you, my dear lady.' He kissed my hand not even frowning at my sigil ring. 'I have to congratulate you to have just started your career. Let me wish you to continue it for longer than your colleagues I used to know in my past.'

'My respect for your truly rare bravery, sir.' I gave him a slight smile.

'Let the real heretics tremble before you, my lady. If you're as brave as me, you won't mind discussing the matter in private? Both your majestic retinue and my envoys will remain here while we talk behind closed doors.'

He pointed at a door in one of the back walls. Ignoring my guards' worried looks, I followed Glyceris with the most assured grin. When it closed behind my back, I took a visibly relaxed glimpse of the little cabinet. A table, two chairs, a mini bar. Draperies ideal for hidden assassins. Glyceris opened a wine bottle and filled two glasses.

'A rare sort for special occasions, my lady.'

'Some hothead would have found the whole place already provoking.' I checked the laspistol when he turned his back to me closing the bar.

'If I wanted to get rid of you, I wouldn't do that in such a blunt way. I'm an irreversibly married man, quite safe to drink with even for young petite ladies.'

The condescending attitude was something an inquisitor seldom expects from any lay man, but his manners seemed easy to talk without long prerequisites and excessive nodding. I truly wished someone had given me good advice how to talk to people like him effectively. My mentor had been a jerky twerp for all his life and had barely ever cared about that. My foster parents had always been polite in my presence and even tried to shield me from the most averting sides of their profession, still hoping I would choose a safer way of life. Corydoras and Plodia did the best job but a few months hadn't been enough to get much experience.

I sighed and sipped at my glass.

'You're smart to conceal your pearl from strangers, sir.'

'Just because I don't have one.' He smiled innocently.

'I have reasons to disbelieve your words. The car belongs to one of your men.'

'With experience you'll learn to tell truth from lies, my lady. Hope you don't think I'm so stupid to make an assassination attempt with a vehicle so easy to trace. How do you feel at your first investigation?'

'How do you know?'

'Manners, looks, the retinue presentation. I've been to many other worlds in my life and has seen quite a lot of your kind. Drago behaved exactly the same when she got her promotion though with more police-y swag than you. You prefer people to mistake you for a Malleus operative. Space Marines are impressive for commoners but you won't have much chance to use him in action.'

'Your knowledge of the subject is surprisingly deep.'

'Knowledge of things is a chance to survive, nothing more. That's why I haven't got into this pearl trap.'

'You're aware of the heresy then. Predictable, as late Captain Atlas was your friend.'

'Not so late and not so a friend since some events of this year.'

'You know everything about the blasphemous affair and prefer staying silent.' I gasped. 'He's... still alive then?'

'I wouldn't be that optimistic.' He poured more wine into the goblets. 'But he was alive when he invited me to get a share of his new business on one of the local feudal worlds. A good place to buy cheap raw-stuff for his industry.'

'Still far from the pearl matters, sir.'

'We both have been born in the slurs, and both have dreamed to get a better life since our youth. He managed to get in the trading business of the waning Rourke dynasty and even earn back a deal of their old wealth.'

'Captain Rourke's family's in as well.'

'Their fame and wealth came from relic trade. Artifacts, antiquities, books, always on the edge of smugglery and even heresy. He's got another good buddy with a real thirst for money and power, Ruber Pimenta, the father of Maia's ward. One of their travels brought them a precious yet deadly thing. They shared the pearls and offered me one as well. I'm a cautious man, ma'am. I paid one of Atlas' hired guns to watch over them and got a good reason to refuse. My old Administratum rival came in my stead instantly, while Atlas departed to that podunk giving his cartel rare signals through Rourke. Tomorrow at night the engagement will be conducted, so I have no more reasons to hide.'

'What exactly has the gunman discovered?' my intuition caught a hint of real trouble coming soon.

'Let him tell you himself, ma'am, and I have to say farewell now, I beg your pardon. I have to get a few more things ready before embarking. Tell Maia I'm sorry. A pretty but poor singer from the cardboard quarters, her longing for chic and riches was much stronger than her sense of reason.'

'Embarking?' I frowned with suspicion, chills down my spine.

'In less than a day this world won't be that nice to live on. That's why I wasn't afraid to share my knowledge with you. Don't even try to detain me lest the said gunman pulls the trigger the same second.'

'My Blood Angel...'

'I'll blow up this section anyway. While he will be clawing his way through the rubble my ship will already leave the surface. So I'm taking my leave now, hope you will enjoy a brief conversation with Marduch, Nicetas and Serapia. I won't even object if you propose any of them to join your retinue.'

Glyceris pulled aside one of the draperies and slipped through a hidden passage quicker than one might expect from a bulky man like him. The same second a lean tall man with eye augmetics appeared from behind another drapery. The third goon from the vid-log. His buddies came in as well, surrounding me in quite a menacing way.

'I suppose you're in a hurry, gentlemen,' I addressed them in a calm voice. 'Let's discuss it without ceremonies.'

The lean man turned his head towards me, and his eye-lense glistened in the lamplight.

'I'm Marduch. I worked for Captain Atlas for a decade and accompanied him to that backwater place. I drilled a few holes in a Chaos Marine who was eager to get the accursed crown in the antiquity shop. His poisoned kineblade pierced my left eye. Atlas said farewell to his generosity once he got the pearls.'

'He didn't pay you well since.'

'Predictable. Master Glyceris seemed a better employer at that time, and things I noticed while spying reassured me to leave the Alackaday cartel for good.'

'The regular cult members wear purple accessories and consume warp-drugged candies.'

'An open secret. A bunch of sacrifice fodder. Victor, their hulkiest goon, was a good buddy of mine, so I had a chance to examine the crates he carried to the inner rooms every morning.'

'Where's the ritual place? I looked around the hall quite carefully.'

'You're unlikely to get in without the pearl. I was allowed to stay on guard, no more. First I had thoughts about stealing a pearl to check that but I saw how the drunkard got nuts after touching one at a stupid mugging attempt. A daemon inside, no trifling. Rourke will complete their circle of six right after their engagement.'

'Thank you for completing my puzzle. Count the amnesty as your reward.'

'I've expected nothing more from your sacred office, ma'am.'

I decided to ignore Marduch's sarcasm.

'Can the ritual hall be reached from another direction?'

'It's located in the sewage of the Old District. Wycke had to use his Administratum authority to postpone the scheduled repairs till next year.'

'I know everything I need now.' I got up. 'You may follow your master, gentlemen.'

'We are going to stay here,' Serapia spoke out, no fear reflecting on her face. 'We all have reasons to witness what horrible and majestic happens here. Marduch cares for his family in a city at the northeastern coast. As for us, we were raised in a place of magic, and I feel our powers growing.'

'You dare to say that in my presence?'

'You will need us.' Nicetas stepped forward. 'We are able to sniff the trace in the sewer stink.'

We got back to the owl in the middle of the night. I was enthusiastic about solving the case at last while my fighters were as puzzled as never before.

'Hope you're not going to add any of these to our team,' said Sister.

'Why not? If they're effective enough. The one-eyed fellow is a tough nut to crack.'

'They are criminals and witches. You do not want to turn into a radical like your former mentor, do you?' Angel frowned discontentedly. 'What is next? Xenos or Traitor Legionnaires? We are all nice pious people, to fit a good lady like you.'

'Don't ignore what they say, lassie.' Uncle nodded. 'If such human-loving little angels try to warn you, let's avoid slippery guys like that. Moreover, they're unlikely to break their ties with that scoundrel Glyceris.'

There was a little sticky note on the owl door. 'Hi Val, we came to visit you at nine but there was no one in. Come to our first show tomorrow after work. A couple minutes from your cafe. Friends.' I felt sorry about the jolly bunch of artists. Happy to start their performances, completely unaware about the coming doom invoked by a stupid rascal and his greedy companions. I wanted to warn them but that was the first time I really felt uneasy about my Inquisitor identity. A person no one would want to love or befriend. They would reject me if they learned I wasn't a simple village girl.

Fluffster decided to stay in Abelard's office studying the files, so I wrote him a message before going to bed. I woke up more determined than any day before since we'd landed on this planet. In the train I barely spoke to the buddies calculating the plans and timeline for today's actions.

'You're so quiet today, Val.' Cecilio winked at me.

'We went to visit Uncle's childhood friends in the city. Took so long because of the jams. Couldn't get through the suburbs till three. No cars ever till the fest is over. We saw the passage to the undercity, by the way.'

'Please, let's avoid that.' Nella caught the bait. 'Even the lousiest suburbs are paradise after the cardboard slurs. Even the Flores boss' palace is a damn dirty lair full of witches and other scum.'

'Hush.' Claudio frowned. 'Not the things to mention in public.'

Before parting Cecilio gave me a bunch of colourful promotion leaflets.

'You may give them to someone at your workplace.'


	6. V

The air in the cafe was electric with agitation. Psychic noise hit my senses once I came in. Atlas walked in and out of her room nervously, Pimenta's smile was brilliant as never before. Closer to the lunchtime I left a few leaflets near the cash desk. Not really much chance to make use of this but still.

And Rourke didn't fail my expectations. He arrived a quarter of an hour later and stayed inside chatting with Pimenta and joking with the customers.

'Just a few hours left, honey. So flattered to have one of your secret parties thrown especially for our engagement.' He looked at his fiancee-to-be with admiration.

'How will we spend these hours?' she giggled. 'Aunt Maia closes the cafe at seven today.'

'Look at these.' He picked up one of the leaflets. 'Why don't we go there? I've admired such performances since Grandmother took us to the festival when I was five, or even less.'

'Sounds sweet, dear. Let's have fun before the hall is ready.'

She took a little violet box out of her bag and opened it. One of the ominous pearls glistened under the lamp.

'I'll pin this to your cravat today, when you call me your bride,' she crooned sweetly putting the box back. To my advantage, Pimenta wasn't as careful as most cultists I'd encountered before.

My slate tinkled. A few coded messages again. I checked them up during a wee break walking between the fair stalls. Both from the Inquisition office. All connection with the ship Miss Lacia was on had been lost, direction and location currently unknown. The Drunkard had vanished, all the operatives could find was a dirty handkerchief. But it hardly mattered at all as the cultists were going to reassemble the vulpine abomination in the evening, probably expecting reinforcement from Captain Atlas and Lacia. With the owner's husband alive, all the cult members had been figured out.

The rest of the workday was surprisingly quiet. I exchanged a few brief messages with Uncle, Abelard and the three goons and rushed to the circus tent to arrive there before the traitorous couple. Olivia met me near the entrance, happy and festive in her glittery dress.

'You'll see the performance at last, Val! It's going to be amazing, even better than last year. And next year you'll join us as well with your fancy beast!'

Tears came to my eyes. Still I couldn't warn my careless buddies while their likely doom would applaud along with the others. More and more cheerful guests, children and grownups, came in, listened to Nella's music, laughed at Claudio's jocular card divinations. Pimenta and Rourke entered holding hands, she was clutching the bag tightly at her side. I followed them quietly through the crowd pulling a pen-knife out of my sleeve. When a large elderly lady drew up with the couple, I quickened my pace and ran into her accidentally on purpose. She stumbled and crashed into Pimenta, slamming her into the tent wall. With a squeal Pimenta grabbed Rourke's arm desperately and touched her smeared makeup with the other hand. She handed her bag to her sweetheart, took out a little mirror and a cosmetic case and started preening with a snobbish look.

I sneaked behind the rogue trader's back, ready to cut the bag open. A quick slash in the place I had noticed back in the cafe - and the violet box fell down to the floor along with a few hairpins and a dried flower and rolled to the wall drapery. The carpet on the floor muffled the sound already hard to hear in the circus noise.

Cecilio's jolly voice invited all to the performance and Pimenta walked away with Rourke leaving the bag in his hands. I decided to pick up the box at the intermission. The lights went out, and Nella started playing a lovely melody. One by one a few coloured lamps lit the stage when Olivia walked out graciously and soared to the the big top climbing on the swinging aerial silk. Faster and faster she did her amazing tricks, and her dress sparkled in the shimmering lamplight. So reminiscent of the festive days on the world I had spent my first years, when at big fair days Sister Tutoress took us girls for a walk on the city square. Often we visited a puppet theatre or a circus like this one, clapping our hands and chewing sweets she bought us at the stalls.

Cecilio performed next, his joyful smile familiar even in the clown makeup. He parodied actors and acrobats, mimicked pompous nouveau-riches and slur drunkards, and the audience met each scene with hearty laughter. I imagined myself dancing with Fluffster on the stage to the welcoming claps of the guests and Nella's energetic polkas and jigs. A dream life for an older me. Something mundane and impossible for a Throne agent.

Claudio's magician tricks were watched with quiet but tense interest. The taciturn artist made flowers grow out of an empty pot, kerchiefs and coins disappeared, sheets of coloured paper lit without burning. Suddenly he walked towards the seats with a slight smile.

'I need a volunteer for the next trick,' he addressed the audience. 'Let me invite you, miss.'

He bowed his head to me and led me to the stage. I smiled broadly to the audience's applause.

'Do you have any small thing with you, miss?' I got my wallet out of my pocket. The knife slipped out of the sleeve and fell to the floor. While the magician was showing the trick with the disappearing wallet, I glimpsed at Pimenta and Rourke and shivered. Pimenta was examining her slashed bag. She saw the pickpocket knife.

As soon as the tricks ended and Olivia announced an intermission I rushed out to pick up the box. I tried not to run into the couple pushing my way through the crowd. A shrill cry broke through the crowd's buzz all of a sudden. I leapt to the tent wall and saw Olivia lying unconscious with the opened violet box. Cecilio shook her by the shoulders, pale with shock. The damn pearl lay there, imposing in psyker-sight.

'Thieves!' Pimenta shouted behind my back, and her fingers grabbed my shoulder and tugged me backwards. 'You're in on it with these rogues, little brat!'

Other artists gathered around, shocked as never before.

'You're a pickpocket, Val?' Claudio looked at me with astonishment.

I threw off Pimenta's hand and turned back to the cultist couple.

'I'm an Imperial Inquisitor, and I accuse you two of heresy and daemon worship.'

The artists turned white and recoiled. The rosette gleamed in my outstretched hand. Rourke shuddered and frowned trying not to show his fear. Pimenta dashed forward uttering a brief unword, the pearl jumped to her hand, and a flash of purple light dazzled us all for a second. When the warp-flame died out, no trace of the couple could be seen, and Olivia and Cecilio disappeared along with them.

Claudio addressed me quietly, his voice trembling.

'We're... sorry, m'lady. Show us mercy, we've nothing to do with this heresy happening.'

'Nothing to blame on you, Claudio. I'm afraid both our common friends and the whole city are in danger now. That's why I've found this cafe job. Now keep your fingers crossed while I enact the emergency plan.'

Uncle's car was parked close to the tent, Angel and Sister waiting for me in the back seats.

'To the Seventh line now. The goons will wait us at the manhole. I'll call for Abelard and his Arbites.'

The fair was a good pretext to locate a group of Arbitrators in the Old District as if to just maintain public order. When we arrived to the place they had led away the fair visitors and enclosed the area. I put on my carapace chestplate over the coat in the car and checked the laspistol and the chainsword. Helmeted Arbitrators had gathered around the open manhole waiting for my orders. The goons stood nearby, Serapia was looking inside the sewer with a wraithbone charm in her hand.

'I feel the trace.'

'So lead us forward!' I said. 'Your transgressions will be forgiven if you serve His cause well today.'

Even the stern Arbitrators froze in awe when Angel got out of the car in full splendour and activated his power claws. Sister pulled the habit's hood over her face, and the formidable Eviscerator blade roared in her hands.

Serapia walked through the sewer passages as if following a familiar route in broad daylight. The maze was stinky and narrow, from time to time torrents of dirty water fell from the ceiling and frightened rats scattered before us. A hundred steps forward, and I felt a psychic stench as well. The nauseating, treacly smell got stronger every second, choking, turning our heads. Even non-psykers could feel it now. I half-closed my eyes and reached out with my psychic sight as Acrolux had taught me. Gusts of barely visible purple smoke belched out of one passage, condensing further. The dead end was no obstacle for the psyker-sight, and I glimpsed at the flame that begot the smoke.

Serapia reached it first and slapped on the wet stone.

'Break the damn wall, guys.'

One of the Arbitrators stuck a package of explosives to the wall.

'Get back, all. It goes off in fifteen seconds.'

Angel was the first to break through the smoking breach. I jumped in next, and the disgusting purple fumes wrapped around me as a smokescreen. Repulsive but captivating incantations sounded in our ears, then a slash of Sister's blessed blade cut through the smoke. I called to the Emperor loudly rushing to the sound. The place, a former reservoir, was paved and walled with purple slime and mutated flesh. Writhing tendrils reached for us from the warp-twisted surfaces barring our way through the passage. With a swing of my chainsword I cut a few tentacles that caught my legs and hurried after the Angel ripping through the distorted flesh.

The passage led to a vast hall lit with violet warp-lamps. A circle of cultists gathered in the very middle, their voices filling the place with a crooning, bloodcurdling chant. A group of four stood in the center, ritual emblems drawn over their faces: Maia Atlas, Pimenta, Wycke and Captain Rourke, deadly pale, with a narrow, ornate dagger in his hand. The hapless circus artists lay at their feet in a pool of purple slime, their eyes opened widely, faces frozen with an expression of horror.

'Initiate Calvin Rourke,' Maia exclaimed solemnly. 'Are you ready to accept the blessing of the Prince of Pleasure? Bend your knees to the Lord of Excess, offer the sacrifice to the Perfect Prince and you will get an opulent reward.'

The purple pearls radiated with warp-fire. Pimenta was holding the pearl pin, ready to offer it to her betrothed as soon as the ritual was completed. Rourke staggered still, biting his lips but not daring to end the captives' lives.

'Be bold, Initiate Calvin Rourke.' Pimenta urged him. 'The Blessed Envoys have invoked the Perfect Prince's powerful messenger, and soon the Vulpine Mistress will arrive to bestow the gifts of the Lord of Excess to this city and exalt us to princehood in the Kingdom of Pleasure.'

'Leave no one of the daemon-consorters alive but the four ringleaders!' I cried out. 'Carry the captives outta here!'

I stepped back to the entrance, took out the pistol and fired at a few cultists that rushed towards me with long crude blades. Two fell on the way but the third had nearly reached me with his ceremonial sword dripped in purple goo. The cute frock was utterly dangerous in a skirmish like this, I thought in irritation leaping aside to finish the attacker with a shot. Uncle shielded me from a few other cultists, their poisoned blades useless against his full suit of carapace armour. Bullets pierced the wall right next to my head, and I ducked only to have a tentacle coiled around my neck. Uncle was busy fighting back against an overwhelming group of cultists while the tendril was constricting slowly to choke the life out of me.

Angel was a pure embodiment of the Emperor's wrath in the very heat of the battle. Cultists swung their blades one by one aiming for the unarmed Sister but they had no chance against her blessed greatsword. On seeing our attacking force Rourke dropped to his knees, threw aside the blade and covered his face with his hands. One of the Arbitrators dragged him to the entrance, two others picked up the paralyzed captives. Maia Atlas opened her mouth to utter a spell but fell unconscious at a direct hit of Marduch's stun gun. Serapia unleashed her psychic might on Pimenta, while Wycke was grounded by the hulky Nicetas and an Arbitrator.

I watched the fight helplessly, the blooddamn tendril coiling tighter as if to savour every moment of my agony. I managed to take out the knife but another tendril caught my wrist and pulled up my arm upwards. Purple smokescreen hid me from the sight of the returning Arbitrators, dark circles already dancing before my eyes. A subtle voice whispered in my ears.

'Do not even think about standing in the way of the Lord of Excess, wretched human. Your suffering amuses the Perfect Prince. I will find many ways to continue your hilarious squirms even when your tiny soul leaves your body.'

Struggling against the oncoming blackout I whispered every litany I could remember, hoping for nothing but to elude the daemon's grasp after death. Vulpine jaws opened over me, and I passed out as the daemon's venomous aura touched my soul.

I opened my eyes gasping for air. Throat still sore, arm aching bitterly but I was no more in the ritual hall. Uncle was carrying me through the sewer passage, and even the waste stench was fresh air compared to the suffocating reek of the cultist lair.

'Done, lassie. The Flores witch has found you, and her brother managed to cut off the tendrils. I wasn't that right about them yesterday. We've come just in time, thanks to the captain fellow to have an ounce of conscience to delay the ritual.'

Back at the Inquisition office I hugged Fluffster who had been coordinating the attack at Drago's cogitator. Abelard seated me in her armchair and handed me a cup of coffee and a few painkiller pills.

'I'm fine.' I waved my hand. 'How did the operation end?'

'The lair purged with flame,' the Proctor reported. 'We've suffered no losses thanks to the aid of your Astartes warrior, madam. Captives have been transported to the office hospital, the arrested ringleaders await for the interrogation in the cells.'

'Perfect. Let's proceed then, sir.'

'Please wait for a quarter of an hour, ma'am,' said Abelard. 'Lady Drago has recovered and will join us as soon as her meal is finished.'

Down in the interrogation room Drago chewed on her pipe in vexation.

'Just unimaginable, Miss Volentia. Such a dangerous cult, first in a few centuries, none of my direct predecessors even remembered such cases. Not even the Flores or the Farmers, but a lousy cartel of a few rogues.'

'It happens more and more often nowadays.'

'You've done a good job. Sometimes a fresh look is needed for situations like that.' She seemed angry at the sudden change in the course of events she had got used to since her first years in the profession.

It didn't take long to loosen the tongues of the cultists captured red-handed. Maia Atlas was even eager to shout out her menacing revelations.

'You've taken me but my man is far away along with Lacia! They've already summoned the Vulpine Princess, and she's waiting for the day she conquers this world as well. He's snatched the crown from a mighty Chaos overlord and won't stop before his plan is completed. He'll avenge us all, and he'll vanquish this bloody traitor Rourke!'

In the morning we knew everything we needed. The escaped cultists kept their lair on Coreopsis, a hive world Glyceris had mentioned in the conversation. Atlas had summoned Lutetia possibly turning Coreopsis into a daemonworld, and Lacia hijacked the ship with a group of cultists to ferry him back.

Unlike the three, Rourke was weeping with fear and remorse at his interrogation. He told us everything he knew and begged to atone for his sins in any way we suggested. He didn't know much about the grisly details of the cult till last evening, mostly carrying drug crates and letters from and to Atlas. After a thorough psychic examination of his mind I suggested using his ship to get to Coreopsis, and Abelard put a control bracelet on his wrist.

'It will kill you instantly if you ever try to attack Lady Inquisitor or any of her acolytes.'

To my surprise, Drago volunteered to join the expedition. She was excited about her successful solving of a case more complicated than her predecessors', and she expected more rewards and even further promotions if we succeeded in finishing the cult. Her retinue oversaw the execution of the ringleaders and the destruction of the daemonic pearls while I returned to the owl with my team to prepare for departure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story ending will be posted on June 15.


	7. VI

Before leaving the office I dropped in to the hospital to see Olivia and Cecilio but they hadn't come to themselves yet. The Medicae officer promised their lives were under no danger and they were likely to regain conscience in the evening or a day later.

The trailer park was deadly silent, struck by the ominous news from the city. I took a quick shower and changed my clothes before going to visit the circus trailer. The artists met me with fear and unease.

'Good morning, m'lady.' Nella got up to her feet and bowed clumsily, and the others followed.

'So nice to see you again, friends.' I smiled as warmly as I could. 'Cecilio and Olivia are alive and are being treated in the most effective way. They will return soon.'

'Thank you, m'lady.'

'Sorry for having ruined your performance. I loved the time around you. I wish I could join your company, but there's much job to do at my current workplace.'

They gave out a strained, choked laugh.

'Wish me luck in a dangerous expedition, friends. Hope nothing will spoil your further performances, and hope we meet again one day.'

'May the Emperor's light guide you, m'lady.'

I returned to the owl in low spirits.

'They seem to fear me more than the tentacled fox itself,' I complained to my friends.

'We warned you against spending too much time around them,' Angel replied. 'You get attachments an Inquisitor cannot allow oneself. All your close ones are here in the owl.'

'Don't be that sad.' Sister gave me a kindly look. 'You've pleased the Emperor by vanquishing the threat to the city. We all love you, and our affection is way more important than strangers you will encounter in numbers.'

'That's why most call that a lousy job.' Uncle sighed. 'Many of my friends abandoned me when they learned about my new employment.'

'That means such false friends don't deserve you,' Sister said with indignation. 'Your occupation is sacred in the Emperor's eyes, and the Emperor is the only one we must strive to please.'

Fluffster was listening to the conversation with his usual philosophical weariness, paying more attention to the processed cheese blocks than to the discussion.

'What have you decided about the goons?' he asked indifferently.

Angel and Sister were silent but their faces were all wordless warning.

'They have saved the day,' I said with doubt.

'You may act as you wish, Lady Inquisitor.' Angel's stare got reproachful.

'So sweet and so keen on keeping the boss under the thumb,' Fluffster grumbled. 'My admiration, kiddos.'

'They don't stick in with their opinions unlike some rodent.' Uncle couldn't help bickering with Fluffster.

'I'm responsible for the group.' I intervened at once. 'It's my decision all the way. The goons are better needed at Drago's office as they have lost their employment so that they can stay on their home planet.'

'We always support your decisions and are loyal to you as to the Emperor Himself.' Sister looked out from behind Angel's back. 'You're a hero bestowed by His grace so you don't need to doubt.'

Their warmth calmed me for the first time since the ride with the letter. I hugged them both at once, and we sat cuddled on the owl floor till Uncle's nervous voice called me:

'We have much to prepare, soon Rourke will send a lighter while the owl is still trashed like a hobo lair.'

'I've told you that I didn't waste time and tinkered with the owl to make it embark and disembark from spaceships no worse than a lighter,' Fluffster said.

'We haven't checked that anyway, you furry slacker. Or you want us to collapse from the orbit?'

'Stop arguing, you two. Drago promised to warn us a few hours ahead.'

Unfortunately, the released captives were still unconscious so I had to write them a goodbye letter. I still hoped they had at least some good memories about our time together.

The cafe had been purged in the morning, and the full report of season workers, citizens and tourists that had fallen victim to the homicidal rites was quite lurid. Right before embarking grimmer news arrived from Coreopsis. Atlas' mindless ventures had resulted in a warp storm engulfing the planet, and the Vulpine Princess summoned by the madman to the realworld plagued the visions of all astropaths and navigators in the vicinity. Lacia didn't reach Coreopsis though. Her ship was intercepted by a crusading Clan Company of the Iron Hands who brought the heretics to justice and were eager to join us in crushing the head of the cult.

Rourke was taciturn and sour during the trip, still hardly able to cope with the sudden crash of his hopes. I tried some small talk to get him and his vessel to our future service, but he was always liquored up the few times he hobbled out of his quarters.

The vessel got under his astropath's full control. In defiance to most stereotypes, the seasoned psyker was a robust and cheeky man with the same taste for good tobacco as Lady Drago. He was blind in just one eye, and the eye patch made him look like a pirate from second-rate adventure movies. I suspected even the loss of an eye had nothing to do with the soul-binding. One day he managed to catch a faint signal from Coreopsis. Most likely a group of survivors, he insisted, but not without the typical interference caused by a Greater Daemon's presence. I could only wonder where he could have got that forbidden knowledge.

After a week in the warp we got the first message from our allies. Lady Drago was drafting a report to the sector conclave, I was talking to Uncle and Angel when the astropath opened the messroom door offhandedly.

'The Iron Captain on the line, m'ladies,' he said flicking ashes from his cigar. 'What shall I tell him?'

'Arrange a talk in the parley room.'

'May I ask you to speak for both of us, Miss Volentia.' Drago rubbed her forehead wearily. 'I have to finish the report before we arrive.'

She had been sitting here for hours if not days in full armour, half-drowsy over her dataslate, fiddling with an embroidered amulet pouch on her neck, and never volunteered for any activity. I tried not to bother her as she was seemingly smitten by the unexpected turn of her career.

'I must warn you.' the Blood Angel pulled at my sleeve when I got up. 'The Iron Hands are the harshest of Astartes Chapters. They despise weakness and seldom yield to inquisitors as they have ties to the Mechanicus and are honoured as a Chapter of the First Founding.'

'I've read about that, brother. Maybe you should stand by my side during the talk. My first negotiation with their kind, would be quite hard without your presence and advice.'

He followed me to the parley room, imposing in his blood-red armour. As the door closed, two psychic projections appeared before us. More war machines than men, they towered above me in their savage panoply of mechadendrites and trophies. One had golden cog emblems on his breastplate, the other was clad in plain black steel. Even their faces looked like crudely forged iron masks.

'Nice to meet you, sirs.' I smiled politely, remembering Corydoras' admonishments about the pride of the Space Marines. 'I'm Inquisitor Volentia of Ordo Hereticus, speaking on behalf of High Inquisitor Drago.'

'Thought you're an Interrogator at best,' grunted the decorated one. 'I'm Captain Verrox. This is my advisor, Iron Father Arothron. What's the red fellow doing here?'

'Sergeant Pterophyllo of the Blood Angels on his Warrior Pilgrimage, crusading by my side just as you do.'

'We're always on the road, Lady Volentia, for we could meet our great sire when he comes back, meet him not idly, but renowned for many great deeds.' Arothron's stare was stern.

When his head grows back, my mentor would have answered. There'd been many times we had to flee after another of his tactless jokes.

'I've got news from Coreopsis, Captain. Part of the local population is still loyal to the Imperium. We're planning to land for investigation and rescue and would be grateful for your assistance.'

'That shitty piece of rock will probably turn into a daemon world in days.' Verrox interrupted me. 'You're as idealistic as every rookie.'

'Not worth wasting your equipment and men. More people will perish if you show weakness now.' Iron Father Arothron supported him. 'You inquisitors have the right to order an Exterminatus, and we have enough armed forces to execute the order.'

I looked at Angel with hesitation. I'd hoped since the start of my career that I would avoid such drastic measures for as long as possible. I realized I wasn't ready to start my job by blowing up a planet where simple people like me were waiting for deliverance. He stared back, his face innocently serene as usual. Determination wasn't among his strengths.

'What an Inquisitor you are if you want a runaway sergeant to make decisions for you?' Captain Verrox scoffed.

'Advice from a space marine is useful when one talks to their brethren, Captain. Our rules strictly forbid to use this measure in any but a truly critical situation.' I finally found what to say. 'The Conclave will need firm proofs. Your authority is not enough to carry that out.'

'Our leader, Iron Father Stronos, has the necessary authority. He will confirm our decision.'

'Iron Father Stronos won't arrive to the Conclave to give explanations. You'll drop bombs, and I'll be responsible. Well, if every company decides to order an Exterminatus, we'll run out of populated planets soon.'

I tried to look detached and strict like my older peers. Still far from the fearsome severity of my opponents. The cricetid would have been better to deal with them, counting his Mechanicus background. An awkward mistake to avoid in future.

Arothron made a sign to Verrox before he could tell another jape.

'We respect your decision, Lady Volentia. We're ready to provide a Strike Team, but only in case you present a valid reason for landing. You will have to locate the survivors, and the group must be large enough. But you will have to locate the cult center first, as we will execute the Exterminatus regardless if the daemon has already taken over the hive.'

'You're right not to mess with Stronos,' Angel told me on the way back. 'He's known to be relentless and quick-tempered. He's bested a Khornate Berserker in a furious single combat.'

'Sounds like a cool fellow. Let Fluffster rap with them next time. He's into their way of thought, I guess.'

'Their style.' Fluffster shook his head when I retold him the conversation. 'They say the Iron Hands will only stop being that jerky when their primarch returns.'

'Hard to rule your legion when your head is missing.'

'The Sons of the Gorgon would hate the comparison, but Lord Commander Eidolon of the Emperor's Children has survived the same without major problems. Mostly because he infused his head with junk and booze, not knowledge.'

We arrived to the orbit a day later, struggling against the stormy tides of the warp. The astropath had tracked down the emergency signal source, and our owl landed in the northwest living block of Coreopsis Primaris. The ruined apartment buildings were constantly veiled by pinkish mist with a sickening sweet smell.

I almost fainted the second I stepped out of the owl. Despite the intense training with Acrolux, my mind wasn't ready for such psychic mess. A cacophony of irreal voices deafened me, eerie visions swirled and flickered before my eyes. Whispering litanies and prayers, I closed my eyes and leaned against the closest wall. Something lashed out at me, and Angel fired his bolter before I could react.

A burnt tentacle fell down to my feet. I cussed and drew my laspistol.

'Take care, lassie!' Uncle shouted. 'We'll be late if we loosen up.'

'Now I understand why it's better to eradicate witch-stuff. Such places are for those like Lady Interpunctella.'

'Hold on.' Sister raised her sacred weapon. 'The Emperor's might will protect us from harm.'

She started chanting a hymn, and we headed to the alleged location while Drago's team was looking for the cultist shrine. At first the trashed passages were silent, only dried blood and messy corpses reminding of the debauched violence that had engulfed the city after the summoning ritual. Pink and purple sigils of Slaanesh marked most walls and doors, and even a brief glimpse at them resulted in sharp headache.

I caught a glimpse of movement in the debris. A shadow ten times taller than the tallest humans. Angel met the coming foe with bolter fire. Uncle joined him with his heavy stubber. With a menacing howl the abominable apparition broke through the piles of concrete rubble. A dozen heads, multiple writhing limbs only vaguely human in shape. A throng of cultists fused together in a ritual of drugged revelry. Violet blood spurted in fountains from the grievous bolter wounds. My laspistol shots couldn't even leave visible traces on the monster's roseate hide.

'Take cover in a living block.' I waved at Angel and Sister.

Fluffster and Uncle had already retreated to a less damaged apartment and went on firing at the chaos spawn. A bright ray of Fluffster's volkite gun hit the front part of the amalgam, and three of its heads combusted with a purple flash. Angel activated his power claw.

'I feel my sire's wrath growing inside.' He paid no attention to my insisting signs. 'I shall rip this unholy spawn to parts.'

'I've ordered you to take cover. Here you play by my rules! Go on with your damn bolter.'

To my relief, he obeyed. In a few seconds the monster was no more than a charred pile of severed heads and limbs. Fluffster lowered his relic weapon, impassive as ever.

'What useless rubbish they've given you.' He looked at my pistol scornfully. 'Unless you're going to fight only underhive beggars with malnutrition.'

'I'm a Hereticus operative. Supposed to compete with heretic masterminds and counter plots, not to chase these beasts out of bad trips. Even my mentor, who was a damn seeker of everything extraordinary, didn't visit daemon worlds.'

'You never know where fate can bring you next. So it's better to meet its new turn ready.'

'I'll save up some funds during our next missions. If we manage to hire the captain, it'll save a lot.'

'He used to be a chaos-worshipper,' Sister said. 'You've promised not to become a Radical.'

'You haven't seen real radicals. Give him a chance to atone with some use for our cause.'

We continued our way towards the supposed shelter. Angel strode first, ready to attack any hostile figure. I walked in the center of the group, flanked by Uncle and Sister. Fluffster followed us with his gun and an auspex device.

Naked mutated cultists attacked us from time to time, armed with primitive cleavers and clubs. Timely gunfire mowed them down before they could even come closer. One of them fired a decrepit stubber at the marine but a single bolter shot ripped off his head.

A few meters from the shelter chaotic voices got silent all of a sudden. Dull, suppressing emptiness came instead. The same as my forced awakening on the seashore. That was why they had managed to survive the rampage.

'What a luck. They've probably got a blank if not a pariah there. A priceless addition to the team in the future,' I said trying to locate the blank spot.

'Down there in the basement.' Fluffster raised his auspex. 'Up to a hundred.'

The dimly lit, dirty room was packed with terrified citizens. Born on a relatively calm world, none of them had been really prepared for the mayhem. Most yelled like mad at the sight of the armoured giant.

'We've come in the Emperor's name to lead you to safety!' I appeared before them with the rosette in my hand.

They were still shaking and smearing tears on their battered faces, unable to even answer. Sister and Uncle descended to the room, trying to talk some sense into them. She was a natural comforter as every Hospitaller should be, and people calmed down at the sounds of her serene voice. One by one they got out, helped by my retinue.

I sent a quick message to Drago and hurried to the back corner where the alleged pariah could be found. A spot of unnatural psychic void. Empty enough to get sick. Still better than the warp turmoil.

A small, waifish silhouette of uncertain gender and age had curled into a ball, wrapped in torn unwashed rags. Tangled greasy hair fell to the blank's face. I patted the waif's shoulder gently, coping with vertigo and avertion. A trembling lanky hand brushed the tousles away from the face. A girl no older than ten. Her eyes stared at me, wide open with fear.

'Let's go. We'll give you a new home and a job.'

She sobbed and crawled back, covering her head with both hands when she saw my weapons.

'I won't harm you. That's for the bad guys who've ruined the city. Come on.'

She pushed my hand away with an angry yowl. Sister crouched next to her, speaking to the girl in her monotonously calm tone. Fluffster waved his paw at me.

'You'll get no more than a headache like that.'

'She's totally savage. Howling at me as if I'm a noise marine.'

'That's what pariahs usually look like. She wasn't as lucky as Plodia to be drowned in gold and licence.'

'Hope you know how to get her under control.'

'If you have a hammer, everything looks like nails. You'll be surprised to hear that from a Magos but people are not cogs for your machine. My best friends thought so and failed a long time ago. They still have to cope with the aftermath.'

'Lady Plodia adopted a pariah girl when she was younger,' I said hesitantly. 'She's serving with the Silent Sisterhood now.'

'Plodia had a family. A future husband. A company of friends. Will you have enough patience to bring the foundling up carefully? Half of your retinue are kids that need care.'

We returned to the owl without further problems as the null aura was anathema to the corrupted cultists. Meanwhile Drago had located the presumed headquarters right under the main hive spire. Strangely devoid of cultists if auspexes were to believe, it had been tainted by Lutetia's vile aura.

To complete the bargain with the Iron Hands, we decided to have a brief reconnaissance raid to the spire. To my astonishment, Drago volunteered. She surprised us with feverish excitement as she gave out orders to her henchmen. With a heavy heart I allowed Angel and Sister to join the team as they were the only ones to be able to resist daemonic corruption effectively. If everything worked fine, the Clan Company's strike team would land on the next day to purge the lair.


	8. VII

It was already night, if our chronometers were still true. After Sister had left, Medicae from Drago's retinue continued tending to the injuries of the rescued citizens. The pariah girl had hidden in rubble piles aside from the others. Uncle brought her a food package. She took it only when he walked away, and then crawled back.

I had to give up the idea of taking her to the owl to chase away the psychic noise. Fluffster said exposure to a strong distressed pariah's aura could be even more harmful to a psyker. I needed more trainings to eliminate background interference by willpower. Sadly, the conclave didn't consider it necessary to send me to Terra where most psykers undergo the Soul Binding rite. As the Despoiler's next venture was just around the corner, every average operative in the Segmentum Obscurus counted.

Fluffster was observing the auspexes, Uncle stood on guard along with a few warrior acolytes. I had no more work to do for today. I retreated to the owl and tried to have a nap before the coming fight. Odd shapes of acid pink danced before my eyes, the voices of Chaos were enticing whispers, siren calls I did my best to ignore.

My sleep was troubled and tiresome. Delirious, I drifted through flickering images of repulsive allure. Suddenly, I found myself in a glowing corridor with living walls of daemonic unflesh. I stepped forward, hypnotized by the overpowering glamour immensely stronger than that in the sewage ritual hall. Lutetia was there, bending the place to its vile concupiscence.

A tall, flawless shape appeared from the purple warp-light in the end of the passage. Yet that was no daemon. A man familiar to me, more than I'd prefer. He was stark naked, lavish jewelry glistening on his marble-white skin. The bunch of tentacles in the place of his left forearm was wrapped in shiny brocade. Handsome as his fabled gene-sire, Aphedron the Magnificent bowed his head with ironic courtesy. A crown of wrought gold adorned his brow, and a purple pearl glared in the metal frame like a baleful eye.

'Be my guest, Inquisitor.' He walked closer. 'At least in the perilous land of dreams and thoughts. It's been a while since we embarked on an exciting journey together.'

'You failed on that day, Pansexualis.'

'You were able to escape the sacrifice at the gates of the Casbah only because the beast guards attacked me. But there'll be another day when I can show my magnificence. And it's nigh thanks to your sweet gift.'

He ran his finger over the pearl and licked the fingertip with his serpentine tongue. I recoiled at the sight of sinful chaotic mutation.

'Most ladies liked it.' He smirked at my disgust. 'You just haven't given it a try.'

'Did they like your shark teeth as well?'

'They had no other choice.' His pierced lips formed a sinister smile.

'You call the pearl my present while you've taken it from Atlas. Your pride couldn't stand a loss in that rivalry.'

'Both yes and no. Yes, I had to show this bunch of self-admiring scoundrels that mortals are no masters of the galaxy. But no, Atlas had lost his before I could retrieve it. Now look.'

One of the walls shifted and dissolved like smoke. I saw a dark ruined hall. A former guest room of a noble house, it had been twisted by the warp as every other mansion in the spire. Pink ichor and darkening blood pooled on the mutated floor. Among the countless mauled bodies I noticed a familiar emblem on a shattered breastplate. Next to the dead acolyte lay a severed head in an Arbitrator helmet.

'You've killed her crew. But I don't see nor my friends nor Drago herself.' I froze up at the bad vibe.

'I've only taken the trophy.' He pointed at the unlit back part of the hall. 'Take a glimpse if you dare.'

Something startled at my psychic glance. It stirred in the murk, enormous as the monster that had attacked us. Slowly it emerged, similar in shape but much larger and disfigured beyond recognition, a repulsively irregular tangle of tentacles and clawed limbs. Spiky tongues lashed out of multiple toothy orifices around a writhing giant face on the abomination's trunk. Even bulbous eyes and a shark maw hadn't erased its former appearance. Drago's drooling mouth was red with blood, and she spinned around seeking for new prey. I couldn't help giving up to despair and anger.

'Holy shit, damned forever you be.' I gasped and clenched my fists. 'The dumbass Chaos slut's been such a presentable official.'

'That's how you know people. Or else you'd have found out what she kept in her pouch.'

'I can't but hate her and wish her the same damnation as to my mentor. She's given up to Lutetia's call. She's devoured my friends. And you've got your tentacles on the daemon.'

'Easy to guess. That easily your complexes and hidden resentment pop out from behind your friendly mask of a good girl. As easy as to read your enraged mind.'

Embarrassed, I took a deep breath to suppress the agitation. He snapped his fingers, and the view shifted again. There was an opulent pool of pink marble surrounded by a winter garden of exotic flowers and shrubs. Warp corruption had turned the plants into a tumult of throbbing flesh in obscenest shapes. If I was in my physical form, I'd throw up immediately at that brazen exposed carnality. Gigantic flytraps and sundews feasted on those unlucky to have got too close.

Chained to the pool nosing, a fox-headed monster sprawled on the marble with the most immodest slackery licking blood from its pincer claws. A single look at its unnatural loathsome grace was unbearable. Choking psychic presence, hundredfold to the one that had almost finished me in the sewage.

'The first time you see a cutie like that.' Aphedron stopped behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. 'Unlike your dearest little ones.'

I staggered when fleshy boughs parted revealing two figures bound by hands and feet with writhing pink vines. Sundews reached for their exposed flesh leaving purple stings. Sister stared at the horrendous garden with tear-filled eyes, silent prayers on her lips. Angel's expression was blank and detached as he was ready to meet death.

'You may thank me. I've rescued them from your superior's hungry tendrils.' He went on, his fingers already on my neck. 'The inside of your mind has given me a wonderful idea. I'm now aware of the metal-arsed goons who're going to ruin my garden of exquisite pleasures.'

'You haven't taken your warband along.'

'I will need them for future ventures, and, overall, I'm magnificent on my own as none of them.'

'What do you want from me now?'

'I want the same from every hussy I invite.' He burst out laughing. 'But if seriously - their chance of survival is zero if the Iron Arses start the assault on the spire before you get to my garden and ensure my safe departure. Do whatever you wish to distract the loyalists till I leave the place, and you'll be allowed to take your friends back. But if you don't accept my generous offer, I'll ride a monster of their amalgamated bodies to my final battle.'

'I have to arrive in person?'

'Yes. Without any retinue members. Your little ones will wait for you in the pool. If you're too slow, I'll have time to rid them of their excessive innocence.'

'Any warranty from you?'

'You don't deserve any.' He grabbed me by the face. 'You either trust me or lose both for sure.'

'There's a Greater Daemon in your garden. It cannot be trusted.'

'The Vulpine Princess is bound to serve me while my body's alive.' He pinched my cheek. 'Now get back to ponder over the offer. I can do you a small favour if you ask me properly.'

'If it's relevant to the job.'

'I might make your awakening more pleasant than you expect.'

'So stupid for one who fought in the Great Crusade,' I snapped in irritation and opened my eyes.

With a terrible headache I got up and reached for my flask of brandy. The owl was dimly lit by Fluffster's portative cogitator.

'What's happened?' Hcricetid turned back to me. 'You've been talking and crying in your sleep. Your nemesis again?'

'Luckily not. A buddy out of my youth we'll meet soon.'

Though disgusting, Aphedron seemed safer than Imudon, his actions and intentions mostly on the surface, none of his plans more complicated than drugging or molesting someone. And no filthy garden of flesh can be even remotely as frightening and captivating as the nightmarish shrine.

'Get used to psyker life. Anyone powerful enough can intercept you, harass you, peep into your thoughts and even hypnotize you if you don't have proper defence.'

'Fluffster, please don't tell the remaining acolytes.' I felt ashamed and sad. 'Drago has fallen and turned into a chaos spawn.'

'Do you really think high-ranking Inquisitors are angels made flesh? The higher they get, the more likely to fall. Even your topmost boss in his neat cabinet, how can you be sure there're no heretic thoughts under his luxurious hat?'

'I have more to confess. I've got exasperated at Drago and failed at shielding my mind.'

'It's no use crying over spilt milk. You're not guilty of your friends' capture but you've worsened their perspectives because of mere intemperance and a prudish desire to accuse.'

'I'm going to rescue them. Even if I fail, I'm one of regular operatives with low value. Not a big loss for the Ordo. And Imudon will never get me.'

'What's up there?' Uncle got in, stern and worried. 'Tell the marines about that right now. They must storm the spire and give the scapegrace what-for.'

'So that the captives are doomed.' Fluffster gave him a sour look. 'You may set off, Volentia. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.'

'You never think about the consequences, you lump of dirty fur,' Uncle rebuked the cricetid. 'We'll be late to come to the rescue.'

'Everything is going as it should be so find something to do till my signal.' Fluffster turned back to the cogitator paying no attention to Uncle's stare.

I checked my laspistol and chainsword and put on my hat. I was little concerned about the cultists as they were all Lutetia's puppets, and Aphedron wouldn't let the vulpine monster ruin his plan.

It was dawn but no sunlight could break through the smoke and daemonic mist. Trashed streets wound upwards from one block level to another to the lofty peaks of palaces and mansions now tainted by the daemon's presence.

Private cars in the living blocks were either burnt or broken beyond repair but on a park square before a large Administratum building I found an abandoned taxi with some fuel left. I turned on the map navigator and traced a route to the spire. Driving wasn't my strength even though Uncle had given me driving lessons during the first year of my work in my mentor's retinue. The pavements were battered and blocked, many of the smaller tunnels or bridges ruined, so I couldn't but drive slowly and carefully.

The spire towered over the downtown quarters, fully veiled by impenetrable pink haze. As I drove closer past ghastly panoplies of mauled bodies and blood-painted obscene graffiti, the sugary smell got sickening. No more cultists or chaos spawn could be seen around as if they had all vanished. Probably summoned by their Neverborn puppeteer to serve as Aphedron's meat shield.

'I'm already tired of waiting.' I heard Aphedron's voice inside my head. 'If you don't arrive in a quarter of an hour, I'll start the fun without you.'

'Be realistic. I'm driving a beat-up car through endless piles of rubble.'

'You can't speed up, good girl, can you? Gutless mortals of a pathetic age. I've driven furious daemon engines and Aeldari Warp Hunters.'

'I don't have any need to ride suspicious stuff.'

'Some suspicious stuff is quite satisfying to ride.'

I started praying to muffle his chuckles. A spiral suspension bridge led to the depths of the unholy fog. There'd been a guarded gateway but it was demolished and tarnished with chaos symbols. Aphedron's distant call reached my mind again. I breathed in and pressed the accelerator.

The bridge ended in a large corridor of living damp flesh. I got out of the car and ran up the pulsating floor towards the psychic glimmer of Aphedron's aura. Writhing tendrils lashed out from the walls, slapped my carapace, left stains of purple slime on my coat. I passed through a few once opulent reception halls now looking like the inside of one's intestines.

Lutetia's repelling stench was everywhere. I pushed aside a few obscene-looking branches and saw the pool from my lucid dream. The Vulpine Princess was still lounging there with its limbs spread. When I stepped forward, one of its pincered arms suddenly stretched across the hall and grabbed me by the sleeve. With a swift tug it dragged me to the pool and put me on the nosing before I could draw my weapons.

Aphedron was standing in the thicket, nothing but his face visible through the boughs. My friends were floating in steaming ichor, paralyzed by the Greater Daemon's vile power.

'I'm true to my promise as you see,' Aphedron said. 'Your part of the treaty now.'

'I haven't told anything to the Iron Captain.'

'Take off your carapace and your rags and get in.' His smile and tone were way meaner than before. 'You three will be enough to open a rift with minimal harm for me and an opportunity to stay alive for you. I promise to let you live but I can't promise to leave you unharmed.'

I undid one of the carapace clasps but stopped in confusion. Aphedron crooked his mouth scornfully.

'That's how you value your friends. Well, I can't call them your friends as inquisitors don't have any. Everyone is disposable if your precious job or your precious well-being is at stake. If you're ready to give them up, I'll do without you but they won't survive the ritual. They shall die with the sad thought of your betrayal.'

With tears in my eyes I unfastened the next clasp under Lutetia's impudent, mocking stare. It was no more chained, ready to attack us if Aphedron's control loosened.

'Come out of your cowardly hiding. The daemon is loose now.'

His face distorted, almost disappearing in the thickening pink vapour. I felt psychic disturbance similar to some astropathic transmissions.

'What a moron I've been.' I grabbed my laspistol and fired straight at his mug.

The beam passed through the collapsing psychic projection and burnt a hole in a bush of tentacles.

'I've been a moron as well to underestimate your retinue. You knew I won't have time for the ritual but your bluff is truly excellent. I've just picked up the bluff game too.'

'What frigging bluff?'

'Don't tell me your rodent Magos hasn't shared his plan with you. Take your kiddies. I'm leaving you now but I'm not sure you'll be able to get out of the spire after my final fireworks.'

He vanished along with the daemon. Drenched and haywired, Sister and Angel crawled out of the pool.

'You're so kind,' Sister said. 'The Emperor will judge the lascivious heretic soon.'

'What happened here while I was driving to the rescue?'

'Pansexualis was sniffing drugs when the daemon started screeching suddenly,' Angel said. 'He leapt up cussing about Fluffster and the Iron Hands and left us here. I guess he had to abandon the psychic conversation because the strike team has got to his quarters. We'll join them as soon as we retrieve our armaments.'

'Get dressed and let's kick his butt.'

The sounds of battle shook the tainted mansion. The strike team had intercepted Aphedron and his mutated minions in one of the banquet halls behind the garden. We ran past a pile of ripped and charred tendrils that had been Domna Drago a day ago. A direct melta hit had left nothing of her face.

Two squads of grim warriors clad in black steel were shooting the hell out of the decimated cultist mob. To my surprise, Lutetia was nowhere to be seen. The fearsome Iron Father had cornered Aphedron in a hand-to-hand combat. Aphedron had donned his corrupted armour and brought along his daemon weapon but even his tall shape seemed frail before his enemy's augmented frame.

Aphedron jumped aside, and his lash coiled around Arothron's arm. Yet its venomous touch that could bite through the armour to reach live flesh was harmless to the metal limb. Iron Father Arothron cut off the lash with one of his mechadendrites. Aphedron staggered at the captive daemon's howl, and another mechandendrite ripped out a few of his attacking tentacles. His purple breastplate was smashed by the crushing blows of Arothron's battle hammer.

Arothron landed his next blow to the Slaaneshite's head. Purple blood trickled from the cracks. Arothron grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground.

'What's the power of your whore-god before His might, you squalid traitor?' he roared. 'I'll send your wimpy soul to be judged by Him in His Kingdom.'

The same second I gasped as an exact copy of myself ran out of the next corridor. We hurried to get there before the combat ended.

'Finish him now!' my double cried out to Arothron. 'Or else my companions will die!'

'The bloody daemon wants to break free!' I shouted. 'Shoot at it, brother!'

The daemon's extensile limb squeezed my neck and slammed me into the wall. I came back to my senses only a few minutes later with a horrible pain in my side and leg. The marines as well as my friends rounded up the growing shape of the Vulpine Princess. Aphedron lay broken on the floor, Lutetia growing stronger as his life was fading away.

Lutetia got hold of Iron Father Arothron with its multiple limbs. Some of his mechadendrites had been destroyed or ripped out of his body but his augmented arms were only slightly weaker than those of the still bound daemon. Bolter rounds and chainsword strikes had left unhealed wounds on the daemon's hide, and pink ichor was streaming from its smashed maw. Aphedron's famous vitality turned out to be of use. Before the abomination could break the sorcerous bonds, Arothron grabbed it by the jaws and wrung its neck.

The spire trembled as the daemon's material form started dissolving. With a clap of thunder the fleshy floor parted. More and more cracks opening, aether winds grew into a squall. Aphedron slipped down into the expanding rift and disappeared in clouds of violet smoke.

Arothron headed towards me. I remembered lurid stories of his nomad kind disposing of the weak and injured without mercy. With great effort I got up holding to the wall, trying not to show any signs of pain.

'You've been a staunch fighter, Inquisitor.' He slapped me on the shoulder with his mauled metal hand, and I smiled back. 'You'll get a new leg of steel instead of this shattered one.'

'Thank you for your kindness, but I'm planning to use this one for a few more years at least.'

He made a signal to his squads. One of the nearby walls exploded, and two black Thunderhawks flew into the hall. I exhaled and collapsed into Angel's outstretched arms.


	9. Epilogue

 

A small vessel left the warp on the border of the sector. Glyceris' remaining funds were enough to find a mansion to live or to start a new cartel but his health and sanity were fading from month to month. He hobbled to the oculus on the bridge, his head heavy, his body limp with hangover and cold turkey.

'We've already changed nine worlds since that unlucky night.' A tall woman with a weary face was looking at the stars on the platform. 'But your qualm turned out to be untimely.'

'The inquisitors did their best but not without consequences. You know what's going on after Atlas fulfilled his crazy plan. A goal too obscure. A rival too strong. And the dreams have returned.'

'I've had enough during the first year of our marriage. You ensured me that was a simple concussion you'd got in a port skirmish.'

'Drago had us under constant overwatch. Drugs are one thing, unsanctioned psykers are already a quite borderline business, but serious witch-stuff could earn us unnecessary attention. Old Pimenta has never returned to the city anymore.'

'He's long divorced, and his only daughter got executed for Atlas' heresy. The price of friendship.'

'I doubt he cares at all by now. The visions have left him monomaniac. A nameless diary, a tainted crystal shard from Torquetum, and finally the crown, all ideas were his.'

'But you've paid a generous share of his quixotic expenses. You're no more a heedless youth to float in pipe dreams.'

'Only a fool can call these nightmares dreams.'

'I'm tired of backwater worlds where you're constantly trying to hide from the voices in your head. Let's find an exorcist or a medium on this planet and stay there. I'm ready to pay every dime we've got to get back the pragmatic man I used to live with. A decade, and we might even return. Drago's successor has other work to do now.'

Glyceris didn't answer. His eyes misted over as he looked past the growing bright discs of the planets. Like on that distant day in the uncharted deep space. The thing was calling again, its voice stronger and stronger. It was driving him closer to the place he'd wished to avoid by all costs when he settled in the underhive to found his petty criminal kingdom.

His wife was still talking but he couldn't catch any word she spoke. Her features shifted and blurred when he looked at her, and another face stared at him with eyes of living flame.

It took almost half an hour to bring him back to his senses in the infirmary. The elderly ship medic shook his head grunting about the harmful custom of sniffing and the incompatibility of spook and brandy. Yet beyond the fragile film of realspace the scarlet gaze was still watching Glyceris. The undescribable presence that would never cease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the attention! I'll start publishing the next episode on June 20.


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